Ceri Han Daro
by pipilo
Summary: ."Daro. DARO! Iallon achen." Your basic Aragorn and Legolas angst. King Elessar thought it would just be a normal day, it seems disaster has decided to follow him. Legolas must come to the rescue but will he just end up in danger himself? Post LotR
1. Nursery Nightmares

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Minas Tirith, Gondor_

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

"My Lord."

Elessar Telcontar, King of Gondor and Arnor, Lord of the White Tree stopped and turned towards the breathless voice. A servant was running at him, desperate to speak his message. Aragorn sighed and considered resuming his hasty walk to the council chamber. A trading agreement with Rohan had been unwittingly broken and although both sides were willing to move on and forget the incident, it had forced him to jog in a decidedly un-regal manner to the daily council. He had stopped now, so to ignore the boy would be rude. He would just have a word with him explaining that _all_ messages sent to the king were considered by their noble senders to be "of the utmost importance" however few actually were.

"My Lord... the... the prince..."

Aragorn placed a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder. "Slow, catch your breath," he said kindly to the panting figure. The servant looked up, gratitude in his eyes but went on with his speach.

"The prince... he... he's gone. His nurse went out to call for breakfast and... when she came back, Prince... Prince Eldarion was gone."

Aragorn straitened, suddenly comprehending why the servant was in such a flustered panic. His son, gone? Through his mind ran chilling scenarios, Eldarion kidnapped, Eldarion taken for ransom, Eldarion murdered. His knees felt weak at the thought and the hand still resting on the shoulder in front of him served to steady the panicked king rather than the serving boy.

"Take me"

He did not trust his voice to say more while he ran down the corridor. He forgot about his image and the council. His thoughts focused soley on his son, he ran. The corridors seemed to lengthen as he flew down them, drawing him further from where he wanted to be. Distance stretched in the space before him, time measured by his pounding heart. Aragorn quickly overtook the servant and spun into the spacious nursery suite.

The floor was strewn with toys knocked from their shelves and the remains of a breakfast tray. Sitting on the edge of a pint sized bed, Prince Eldarion's nurse sobbed into the shoulder of a nursery maid. A chair lay on it's side against the green wall, painted with silver trees.

Aragorn did not cry like the nurse, run like the servant, stare blankly like the maids or charge about the citadel like the guards. He dropped to sit on his knees, bending to stare and sniff at the floor. He did not care who saw him now. He was not Elessar, King of the reunited kingdom, but Strider, ranger of the North.

There was nothing to see near the door and most of the debris had been left by the maids. Crawling around the bed, Aragorn found a disturbed patch of carpet. Things had fallen all around and lay framing the empty space. Looking up, he saw a shelf had been ripped from the wall on one side. The chair which usually stood proudly by the bed had been thrown to the ground, the delicate fretwork back splintered. The destruction around him was not what caused Aragorn to stop, silent in shock. It was not the room which froze his heart . It was the blood.

There, before him the carpet was stained a dull red. He bent close to examine the colour. It was recently spilt. Spilt from a young dunedain prince?


	2. Missing Prince

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Minas Tirith_

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

"I want to see the captain of the guard. Right now. And someone tell the queen what has happened."

Servants scurried away to observe the orders of their king. Aragorn stood, drawing himself up to his full regal height to wait for Harron, the man responsible for security in The White City.

_Aragorn? Tell me it's not true. Iallon achen Aragorn._

Aragorn heard Gondor's queen in his mind. Behind the words he felt the emotions that normaly made him bask in the warmth. There was a blanket of love for him and love for all those she held dear, but over riding it all was concern for her famiy. Aragorn felt the plea for comfort, the begging for him to make things go back to the idle serenity of the morning.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

When Arwen appeared in the doorway, Aragorn strode towards her and held out his arms. She stepped to him. He folded his arms around her and held her head against his shoulder, protecting her from the distress of seeing the destruction of the room. She leaned into him, welcoming his support while turning her head to rest by his neck.

"What happened?" She whispered.

He looked down and stroked a soothing hand down her back before softly replying. "I do not know, my love. The nurse left only for a moment and returned to find this." He gestured to the room, sweeping Arwen towards the bed where they sat. "Eldarion was not here. There are signs of something dreadful happening. Someone was hurt." At the sound of a choked sob, Aragorn took his wife's hand, keeping his other arm around her shoulders, he pulled back to look into her glistening eyes. "Hush, it will be fine. I will find him. I promise you, I will find him." His eyes blazed with determination. She rested her head against his chest once more and allowed herself to be comforted.

After a few minutes, a man was framed in the doorway. He was tall and slim but with a shape hinting at musculature beneath the dark guard's uniform he wore. His face was pale contrasting his dark hair. There was a thin stubbly line of hair above his lip which curved down as he frowned. He radiated a dignified air and had a kind of gravity. His stance and expression suggested he was not a man to be challenged. Aragorn felt uncomfortable beneath the gaze of the stranger who's eyes conveyed superiority.

The man lowered his eyes. He stepped forward and bowed formally.

"Sire, you sent for me?"

Aragorn stood to face the guard.

"I sent for Harron. Where is he?"

"in the houses of healing Sire. He was accidentally shot during the morning's training."

"Is he badly hurt?"

"No Sire, but will be unable to attend to his duties for a few weeks. He appointed me in his place. I am Lieutenant Barindor Tonalion." He accentuated his name with another flourished bow.

"Barindor," Aragorn said "Prince Eldarion has disappeared from this room in the last quarter hour. I want him found safely. Organise your men. I want a search of the citadel. If he is not found in an hour, extend the search to the city. If you find anything at all which may be of use, alert Lord Faramir right away. Keep him informed."

"Should I not report to you Sire?"

"I will be looking too. Do you think I can sit by while my son is lost? Report to Lord Faramir."

"Right away Sire." Lieutenant Barindor Talarion saluted then smartly turned and strode out the nursery.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

_Do you think I can sit by while my son is lost? Do you think I can sit by while my son is lost? My son is lost, do you think I can sit by? Sit by while my son is lost? You sat by while my son was lost. Sat by while my son was lost._

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

"Where do you intend to look?" Arwen asked. "He could be anywhere."

"I will find Legolas. Together we will find Eldarion."

Arwen smiled at the simple answer. "You and Leglas, on a quest, again. I shall inspect doors carefully before opening them." Aragorn shared the smile at the memory of a time he and Legolas had set out on a 'quest' to get Arwen as soaked as they could.

"Have you seen him?"

"He said he was going to the South gallery but that was some time ago."

"I'll start there, you know how he is, once he sees the trees, he looses track of time. He'll be staring out at the garden from the gallery for hours." He gave her hand a reasuring squeeze and said in a deeper tone, "I'll find him. Go to Faramir and wait for news. I will see he is safe."


	3. Eldarion!

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Minas Tirith, Gondor_

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Eldarion ran. He looked about for a place to hide. There was not much time left. _There._ High in a tree, there was a sturdy branch hidden in leaves. He began to climb.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Aragorn walked at a hurried pace down the seemingly endless corridors of the citadel. Time and space played tricks on him, mocking him. The space before him stretched and grew. The walk to the gallery had never seemed this long before. Time seemed to speed around him. He could not keep up, he was too slow. The mortal was too slow to get to Legolas.

Eventually, the corridor lit up as the sun flooded in from the gallery. The Southern gallery stretched all along the southern wall of this wing. It was open to the air on one side, offering an unparalleled view of the gardens and of the land beyond the city.

Aragorn stopped just out of the corridor, as he always did. He took a deep breath of the fresh morning air. No matter what the circumstances, it always felt good to get out of the stuffy rooms and corridors at the top level of Minas Tirith.

He peered along the gallery, eyes still adjusting to the sun. He did not see anyone. He took a closer look at the chairs and couches, his friend couldn't be seen. He ran up and down the long room before believing the truth. Legolas was not there.

He sat dejectedly on a carved wooden chair, leaned back and closed his eyes. All his plans for finding Eldarion had involved Legolas. The only place Legolas would be on such a morning when he was staying in Minas Tirith was the gallery, with his trees in sight. The view really was beautiful. The lawn stretched away like a emerald sea. The trees, thick and tall, curved round to the sides, enclosing the little garden . A grass path led to a small flower meadow on the right. The trees grew in a little wood to the left. Their great height showed the grandeur of their age. It was an unlikely spot for such woods and meadows on the top of a city carved from a mountain. Yet it seemed natural there, tranquil and natural.

Looking at the trees, Aragorn saw a flash of light, almost white, gold. He recognised the colour and the way the colour moved. In a heartbeat, he was running down the lawn, calling "Legolas!"

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Eldarion focused on the ground, he could see through the branches of the tall cherry tree. His breathing sounded loud. He was sure it would give him away. He was being hunted for and knew he could not stay hidden much longer.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Legolas waited for his friend to join him. Aragorn ran up and bent, hands on knees, panting like a dog.

"You're getting old, my friend," Legolas laughed. He received a glare from the red face.

"What are you doing?" Aragorn asked when he could speak again.

"Looking for Eldarion. Want to help me?"

"What makes you think he's in the trees? Have you found something?"

Legolas gave him a puzzled look before saying "He always hides in the trees."

Aragorn gave his friend a hopeful look. "He escaped?"

Legolas gave a soft musical laugh. "Don't worry, he can't get very far."

This slightly confused Aragorn. Legolas saw the look on his face and thought he had better explain.

"He grazed his knee quite badly. Oh, don't worry, it's fine now, he just can't run or climb trees as easily."

"Then we have to find him."

"Yes we do."

Legolas sprang away, moving silently through the trees with his human friend following behind. He then crouched behind a bush and looked into the branches of a tree. Aragorn followed his gaze. His heart lit at what he saw.

"Eldarion!"

The boy jumped deftly down from the tree. He found himself held tightly by his father who did not let go.

"Dad? You found me."

"I did, you're safe now."

"Safe?" Legolas repeated in an affronted manner. "What did you think I was going to do? Put an arrow through his chest? It's only hide and seek."

Eldarion found himself released from the hug and watched in interest as his father stared at Legolas.

There was a moment of silence before Legolas's laughter filled the garden. "You thought I'd kidnapped him?"

"I thought someone had", Aragorn said in a low voice.

"You are way too overprotective, he just came to me and said he wanted to play."

"But what about the blood?"

"Legolas made it better", Eldarion stated from where he was arranging leaves on the ground.

An eyebrow went up.

"You do look funny like that Aragorn. He grazed his knee, that is all."

Aragorn was about to demand further explanation when a hand pulled on his.

"Come on Dad, hide with me."

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

**AN:** Heehee. Anticlimax. I bet you all hate me now. Well don't worry, I haven't finished "playing" with the characters yet. Soon Aragorn will wish I had just left it at this.


	4. Friendship, sunset and sunrise

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Minas Tirith, Gondor_

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Dinner that evening was casual and relaxed. Laughter rang around the room from the friends seated at the table. Soft evening light flooded in from a large floor length window and spilled over the scene. Lord Faramir, Lady Eowyn and Queen Arwen laughed at Legolas' words.

King Elessar was quick to defend himself. "But the nursery was a mess. You saw it Arwen."

"Yes, I saw it." She replied. "And to think, all of that destruction caused by one little boy."

The laughter rose again.

Faramir entered the conversation. "You worry too much my friend."

Eowyn leaned forwards to ask "What _was_ he doing?"

Legolas delightedly took up his story again. "He said he was bored. He wanted to play with his toy warriors. Unfortunately, the maids had stored them on the top shelf and his nurse said he had to eat breakfast first. But we all know what Eldarion's like." Amused nods went around the table. "Well _he _decided it was play time and being prince should get to do what he wanted. He moved the chair to the wall, stood on it, and grabbed his toys. However, he overbalanced, knocked the chair over and ended up hanging from the shelf." This image earned more laughter from his audience. "As we all know, manmade furniture is less sturdy than elf made," this earned a light hearted glare from Aragorn, "So the shelf came off the wall, falling to the floor and bringing Eldarion with it."

Arwen took up the narrative. "He managed to scatter toys everywhere. That chair was a gift from my brothers and two of the legs have broken off. The wall will have to be repainted where the shelves were. He grazed his knee on the wall and bled onto the carpet. That _really _scared Aragorn."

"You were concerned too." Aragorn protested.

"Only because you told me something terrible had happened. But that little accident didn't deter Eldarion from his quest."

"No, he still wanted to play but some of his toy warriors were broken." Legolas explained. "I was admiring the tranquillity of the gardens in the morning when he came running up to me. He wouldn't keep still. It was hard enough to bind his knee. As soon as I finished and wiped the blood from his leg, he ran off and demanded I play hide and seek with him."

"I can't help wondering if Arnon will be such a handful when he gets a bit older."

"I think he inherited his father's quiet streak," Aragorn said to Eowyn.

Faramir spoke up. "I was coordinating a massive search. The guards were all over the city. Next time, look for Legolas first. Please, I have a pile of work to catch up on."

"I'll add you to the list shall I? At Faramir's quizzical look, Aragorn continued. "The list of people Eldarion has to formally apologise to. There's his nurse, the housekeeper of the wing and Lieutenant Tonalion."

"That will teach him to do what his nurse says" Legolas laughed. "Nothing like this ever happens in Ithilien. It's never dull when I visit. I wonder what else can go wrong during my visit."

Arwen said, "Don't tempt the Valar. Two weeks is plenty of time for tragedies."

"Too short a time my friend," Aragorn sighed.

"Well hurry back from your work tomorrow then," the elf said.

Faramir took the opportunity to bring up an old argument. "Are you _sure _you won't take a guard? The city can easily spare five or six men. Your life is worth too much. What if something were to happen on the way?"

"I'll be fine. I used to ride about on my own all the time when I was younger and that was when Sauron was spreading his darkness."

"You weren't king then Aragorn." Arwen told him. "It would make me happier if you took some men."

At Aragorn's sigh, Legolas added his voice to the persuasion. "You of all people should know the fragility of life. You could be away for days."

"I'm only going to Gedin. That's half a day's ride away at most. I go, clear up the farming disputes, elect a councillor over them so this doesn't happen again and come home. Simple."

The look he received from his wife implied it was _not_ simple.

"Ok, ok, I'll take one guard."

The noise broke out again as everyone tried to speak at once.

"Finally!"

"Only one guard?"

"Are you encouraging the bandits?"

"What good is that?"

Aragorn's strong voice, the one he reserved for council, broke like a wave across the sea of voices. "I will take one guard. No more."

"Fine, but take someone with experience who can actually offer you some protection." Faramir conceded.

"What about Lieutenant Tonalion? He seemed good at his job? Harron certainly thinks so." Eowyn suggested.

That ended the argument. The friends settled back to the rest of their quiet dinner as the sun sank behind the mountains.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

The next morning, Aragorn was out of bed early. With a tender kiss to Arwen's sleepy eyes, he crept quietly out of the room. He dressed in brown and green travelling clothes and ate a filling breakfast to prepare for the long day ahead of him. He met a few Lords in his throne room to deal with the issues requiring his attention then made his way to the courtyard.

Faramir and Legolas were waiting to say goodbye. When he approached them, Legolas briefly hugged him and stepped back.

Faramir teased "Are you sure you don't want more guards? With your luck we should send a hundred men to tail you."

"I'll be fine. See you in a few days." With that, he turned and made his way down the spiralling road of Minas Tirith.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Lieutenant Barindor Tonalion was glad to get away from the city. It always seemed to oppress him. Although he had left that place of memories behind, he was not quite happy yet. The King insisted on calling him Barindor. A king shouldn't be so informal, he thought. Denethor would have respected his rank. Yet the lack of title was not what hurt him most.

_He has no right to use that name. He is not fit to speak it. Barindor is a name of honour and strength. How can a man lacking in these use it so casually? _

The waiting was the hardest part of riding with the king.


	5. Journeying on

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_White Mountain Road_

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

The sun was now high in the bright blue sky. Small whisps of white cloud lazily swirled overhead. It was a clear, windless day, but the two riders on the road pulled their cloaks tighter around their shoulders against the chill in the air. Mountains rose up in great cliffs at their right. The road climbed and fell, hugging the base of them. Their horses calmly walked alongside each other on the light sandy track. There was little conversation between the riders. Aragorn was admiring the beauty of the scene that spread to their left. From some higher points of the road, he thought he could see a darker blue line against the horizon of the sea. His companion made no attempt at conversation and he was happy to share the morning in silence.

The road turned to the left. A great cliff grew out of the ground in front of them. They followed the track around the base. Around the other side, the air was colder and shaded. Aragorn shivered, hoping to leave the shadow quickly for the warmth the sun gave. On either side, tall weeds grew out of the grass, leading on to patches of scrubby undergrowth. The odd tree lined their route, thick and tall on the edge of a field or twisted and leaning out of the steep rock. As they travelled on, the trees clumped together in little patches until the road was flanked by a thin wooded line.

After a time, the trees grew less regular, in twisting leaning shapes that seemed to reach out to touch the road. The smooth cliffs gave way to jagged outcrops, steep slopes and shallow caves. Boulders were littered in the tree line. Rock tips peeked out from the twining brambles. Small peaks grew up to the left. The greens of the fields had given way to the greys of the mountains. The air was colder. Lieutenant Tonalion resettled his thick woolen cloak on his shoulders. Aragorn inwardly cursed at burying his thick cloak deep in his pack. He pulled on the laces of his tunic to tighten it around his neck then tucked his hands back into his cloak.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

It was a relief when they reached a suitable place to stop. A large Lebethron grew up in front of them. The path cracked above it's spreading roots. They carefully filed around it to find the rock curved away under a overhang. With shelter from rain and wind, this seemed perfect for a brief rest and a late lunch.

Aragorn reined in his horse and turned to his companion. "Barindor, I think this would be a good place to stop. Personally, I think I need a little break from all this riding what do you think?"

The reply was short and formal. "As you wish, Sire."

They dismounted and led the horses to the shelter of the rock. Lieutenant Tonalion quickly set up a fire and expertly struck his flint while Aragorn dig in his pack for his cloak. When he found it, he wrapped it over his shoulders and made another attempt at conversation.

"For such a sunny day, it's freezing."

"Yes, Sire."

Aragorn sat on a boulder neer the small fire. "Do you have the food?"

"Yes, Sire. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, Barindor, aren't you?" He did not recieve a reply. The Lietenant was busy unwrapping dried meat and cold cooked vegetables.

"Do you think we should warm it up a bit?" Aragorn asked.

"As you wish sire."

Aragorn softy sighed. He had hopped to escape his position for just a few hours this day. It seemed he was just seen as king but not a person like everyone else. It was going to be a tedious few days if he couldn't expect the companionship of his 'companion'.

They ate slowly, neither speaking much. After a long uncomfortable silence, Aragorn remarked "We should reach Gedin within a hour. We've made good time. I think we can afford a proper rest."

"Yes sire. Shall I bring out blankets?"

"A good idea Barindor. Yes, thank you."

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Aragorn started. He had been drifting to sleep on the blanket he reclined on. Something had startled him but he didn't know what. Lieutenant Tonalion lay still beside the fire, curled up in his blanket, his breathing regular. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the trees to his right.

Behind a tree, he saw a shadow move. Laying as still as he could, he reach under his cloak and gripped his sword, glad he had not slung it in a corner with his bags. he saw Tonalion's knife catch the light. _So he is preparing for the unknown too._ All was still.

Suddenly, a roar echoed up the mountain. Out of the trees grew the shapes of men; five of them. Aragorn lept up and backed against the rocks for protection. Lieutenant Tonalion stood by his side, cloak thrown back, sword in one hand, long hunting knife in the other.

No one moved. Two against five was not good odds but the king of Gondor and head of the guard were not men to be triffled with. A man ran out of the trees, sword waving madly in front of him. The other men followed. The Lieutenant stepped out and engaged the first man in a deadly dance with shining blades. They attacked and defended, metal ringing on metal but neither sword tasted flesh. A second man ran past and Aragorn swung Andúril before he could stick his dagger in Tonalion's back. The mighty sword cut deep into the man's neck and he fell, smothering the fire with blood. Aragorn did not watch him die. He found himself up against the three remaining men. _Just my luck_, he thought,_ My guard fights one while I have to fight three_.

He kept two slashes at bay with his long blade and twisted from a third. Seemingly from nowhere, a sword slashed at his chest but this brought his hand down flat on the blade. This earned him a shallow cut but he successfully disarmed his opponent with the unexpected smashed his fist upwards, hitting the man by chance and he fell over backwards. The remaining men circled him, jabbing with long swords. There was no great danger in their attack but it earned Aragorn a few nicks and prevented him from attacking. He could not strike one for the other would just cut him down. One tripped over the foot of his fallen comrade. Seeing his chance, Aragorn leapt forward, swiftly cleaving the man's neck. He whirled round just in time to deflect a blow from his remaining opponent.

The fight was frenzied and short. Sweating, his arms aching, he slammed Andúril's pommel down on his opponent's head and the man sank to the floor. He lowered Andúril, and tried to catch his breath. It was over, he was safe.

Something hit the back of his head. The great force made him pitch forward over the body. Bright spots appeared in front of his eyes as he struggled to retain consciousness. He was hit again and let go of his tenuous hold on awareness. He sank down into the darkness.

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**AN:** Thankyou for all your lovely reviews. I really appreciate them (Hint, hint).


	6. First blood

_**ceri han daro**_

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

_...thb...thb...thb..._

The first thing Aragorn was aware of was the throbbing in his head.

_...thb...thb...thb..._

He wasn't sure if he heard the throbbing, felt the throbbing, or _was_the throbbing. It grew to a regular pounding like his brain was fighting to escape his skull. He was aware of the throbbing all through his body. He was lying on something cold and hard. The small wounds he had gained in the fight fought for his attention. There was no breeze but he shivered in cold. This movement reveled to his foggy mind that he was lying on irregular stone in only his undershirt and drawers. The pain in his head was taking over his being and threatening to send him back to unconsciousness.

Fighting against it, he focussed on his other senses. There was an unpleasent, musty, fuzzy taste in his mouth. He could no longer smell the grass and trees. He could no longer smell anything. The air was still and there was nothing to detect in it. There were no clues to where he was or what had happened and he could delay the moment no longer. He opened his eyes a crack.

At first he wondered if he had been blinded. He opened his eyes completely before he saw anything in the dark. He was staring at an uneven stone ceiling. He turned his head and felt just how stiff his neck had become. He was in a small dark room. The walls, ceiling and floor were stone. There were no joins he could see. He focused on the uneven curving wall and concluded the room had not been built but carved.

_Am I in some sort of cave?_

That seemed likely now he considered his surroundings. He pushed up on his elbows then slowly rose to his feet. The movement sent his head spinning. It took a moment before he realised what he was looking at. Instead of the opening to the outside he expected, there was a door. He leaned against it. There was no movement or sound from beyond. It was made up of wide dark panels of wood. There was a latch at head height. Aragorn lifted it and tried to force the door open. It did not move. He ran his hands down the side looking for a bolt but found nothing. Moving to the other side, he felt a flicker of hope at the rust on the hinges. His fingers explored where his eyes could not reach. The metal strip was thick and wide. Although there was a crusted surface, the sturdy hinges held firm.

Turning, he surveyed the room. Four walls, ceiling, foor, door. That was it and he was trapped here.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

After an immeasurable time, There was a noise from beyond the door. Footsteps were approaching, as they drew closer, Aragorn could distiguish the two distinct heavy patterns of two men. He pushed off the wall and stood alert, facing the door. A bolt rattled. The latch lifted. The door was thrown wide.

Two tall musculed figures stepped in. In the light of the guttering candle one held, they were a menacing sight. There was something familiar about them. The discoloured lump on the head of the one on the left reminded him. These were the men who had attacked him. One he had knocked unconcious. The other must have defeated Leutenant Tonalion and come up behind. Aragorn was filled with concern for his companion. _But I'm still alive so he may be._

"Where is my guard? What have you done with him?" Aragorn demended.

In reply, he was hit lightly across the face. It did no damage but that didn't mean it did not hurt.

"Shut up."

Aragorn persisted. "Where am I? Why do you hold me?"

This time, his lip split. He felt the trail of blood down his chin and tasted it in his mouth.

"Shut up, your _majesty_."

This time he remained quiet, he was brave but not stupid. The man on the right, who had been silent until now spoke.

"It's like this. You are a guest of my noble master. We are here to prepare you for him. There is nothing personal in this. WE do not have anything against you, your _majesty,_" He drew out the word with a smile, "but you do not pay me to be a loyal citizen. Whereas my master pays me to see to you." With that he gave a small nod. The taller man ran forewards and feinted at Aragorns head. Defending, he was not prepared for the punch to his stomach which doubled him over on his knees. He was pulled to his feet and dragged out through the door.

The room beyond was lighter. It was a large rectangular cavern. There was no furniture save a bench carved allong one wall. Candles burned in regular alcoves high on the walls. In the far corrner, a dark passegeway led off the chamber and curved out of sight.

Aragorn found himself thrown to the middle of the floor. He didn't have time to raise himself to a sitting position when a kick sent him sprawling. He was kicked again in the lower back. His back arched against the stone and he rolled instinctively to protect the spot. His exposed stomach was kicked. He curled again and recieved a blow to the back of his neck. He could not defend himself against the blows, between them, the men gave him no time to recover. One kick would twist him one way the another would sprawl him round another. No matter how much he tried, he could not protect his body. There was always a tender part of him exposed. He curled tight into a ball, straining his rappidly bruising back and wrapped his arms around his head. His hands muffled the yelps that escaped. He tried to remain silent, not to give the men the pleasure of his pain but sometimes his hands caught a shout he could not hold back.

The attack lasted for what seemed hours to the man writhing on the floor. Sometime he thought he couldn't take anymore but the blows still came and he still hurt. More always came.

Eventually, the men stepped back, breathing heavily with exertion. Aragorn slowly lifted his head and saw there were no more kicks coming. Warily, he rose to his feet. The men just looked at him. He was sore all over. This chest hurt when he drew breath.

"Now to take our payment and get out of here." The men walked off to a dark corner together. Aragorn sank down onto the stone bench. He watched his tormentors dividing some clothes and trinkets between them. An intricate ring caught his eye. Those were his things. He wanted to jump up and get their hands of his belongings but knew he was in no state to fight against two armed men.

They walked towards the exit with their bounty, laughing and chatting about their families. It sickened Aragorn, after what they had done, they could be so unconcerned. He thought they were going to leave him there and forget about him. Near the passage out, one turned, handed his bundle to his friend and walked over to where Aragorn sat hunched in pain. He was pulled to his feet but faught the indignity of being dragged back. He walked briskly back to his room, his cell. He turned to watch with a cold expression as the door was locked and bolted but when he was alone, he sank to the floor in dispair.

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**AN: **I had a good idea of this story before I started. What I didn't know is that stories can have lives of their own and this one does not appriciate a controlling author. I don't have much say in what happens now, the story has taken me as it's slave. (It says I may be released if this chapter gets reviewed.)


	7. Bwana loves you

**AN:** Unbetad I'm afraid. Big thanks to Melissa who did beta it for me. That version uploaded with a '#' between each and every letter. So I give you this and hope you won't judge it too harshly.

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

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He had slept, in the dark for a few hours. Aragorn woke to find his nightmare spilled into the waking world. He squeezed his eyes shut in the hope that when he opened them again, he would find himself back at home, with Arwen beside him. The nightmare persisted. He resigned himself to the fact his current situation was very real.

He pushed himself up from the cold floor and leaned against the unyeilding wall. His back and stomach ached badly. His chest ached in a dull insistant way but he breathed a sigh of relief at this. No ribs were broken. That beating had been designed to frighten him, give him a message he concluded. He felt light headed from lack of food. His sore throat and throbbing head demanded water but he had none. He wished he had not been so stubbon, he should have listened to Faramir. If only he had take a party of guards. He would get out of here he was sure. Those men who had dared to attack their king would wish they had never touched him. The trouble was he was so confused.

_Where am I? Who holds me? What purpose do I serve here? Why were we attacked? What is to happen to me?_

He closed is eyes again and tried to sleep for it was better than the hunger and pain but his battered body gave him no rest. He sat in the dark, thinking of home and his family.

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Arwen woke suddenly. She breathed heavily and tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. The light filtering through the curtains was a weak pink and birds chirped in the pre dawn light. It was too early to wake. Arwen turned on her side to burry her dreams in the embrace of her husband. The empty bed startled her until she remembered Aragorn was away.

She rose from the bed and donned a loose robe which she had thrown over the back of a chair. Drawing back the curtains, she walked out onto the balcony. The beautiful view helped to calm her and banish the dark images that had come to her in sleep. The memory was vague and she could not remember the form her dream had taken. She was ust left with a few uncoordinated images and a deep sense of dread which settled in her stomach. She wished Aragorn was with her. He cold always calm her and help her to forget. _Ah Aragorn where are you? Come back to me with the speed of the wind_.

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Somewhere in the back of his mind, the footsteps registered. Aragorn lept to his feet before he really heard them. His heart lept in terrible anticipation as the bolts were drawn back. The door was thrown wide. He blinked against the light at the tall figure in the doorway. When his eyes ajusted, they flew wide in recognition.

"No," he breathed, staring at the man before him.

"Good morning, Sire, I hope you slept well. Would His Majesty care for some breakfast?"

Aragorn did ot answer. This man was supposed to be on his side. He had trusted him.

"Barindor?"

The man dropped his mocking kindly mask. His eyes darkened and narrowed. The corners of his moustache twitched and his jaw set into a tight line. "How dare you call me that," he hissed. "How dare you say that name?" His voice rose to a shout. "You will adress me as Bwana for I am your master."

With that, he grabbed Aragorn's arm and flung him into the cavern beyond. He was strong and Aragorn stumbled before steadying himself.

"Why Barindor? Why are you doing this?"

"Call me Bwana!"

Aragoen fell sient. This seemingly mad man had him trapped by a stare. Aragorn's eyes flickered to the exit. A padlocked chain criss-crossed over the gap. There was no escaping the room.

When he turned back, Tonalion had picked up a glass flask of clear water. Seeing his look, Tonalion asked "Would you like some?" Aragorn's throat cried out for water. He longed to tip the contents of the flask into his mouth. Yet he was afraid to say yes. What would happen if he admitted to weakess?

"Oh come now, you must be thirsty."

Aragorn nodded and resisted the urge to look at the floor in shame.

He did not renlinquish the flask to Aragorn's reaching hands but gently pushed them aside. He placed one had behind Aragorn's head and tilted it upwards slightly. With the other, he wetted the parched lips then slowly tipped the flask against Aragorn's mouth. "That's it, drink up." The voice was kind. The water was cool and refreshing. He gulped it down, spilling some in his haste down his chin.

"Easy, easy," Tonalion murmered. "Small sips, you've been without water for too long. Small sips." The flask was tilted back slightly so only a trickle flowed down Aragorn's throat. "That's it," Tonalion continued in a deep voice. The flask was moved away. "Better?" Aragorn nodded in suprise. He did not know what he had expected but it was not this. He relaxed a bit now there was no iminent threat of another beating.

Without stepping back, Tonalion took a white hankerchief from his pocket. He reached towards Aragorn's face with it. Once again, he gently pushed Aragorn's hands back down, murmering, "It's ok, I'm here." He then wiped the soft cloth around Aragorn's dripping chin and lips. The hankercheif disappeared back into its pocket. Aragorn found himself folded into a strong embrace. He stiffened, uncomfortable, shocked and a little scared. Feeeling this, Tonalion started to whisper in his ear. "Hush, don't be scared. It's allright. No one's going to hurt you. You're safe. I'll keep you safe. I'll protect you. Hush, It's ok, Bwana loves you."

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**AN:** When I started this chapter, it was going to be one of torture. I told you the story was telling itself. I want control back. Power to the author. Please review. (There may be cookies.)


	8. Darts

**AN: **Written in the hour after midnight. It shows. *yawn*

**Ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

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Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn were walking to the morning's council. Council was held six days a week. They were never short of topics to debate and the meetings could last for hours.

"I just want to curl up in my library with a good book," Faramir said.

"Yes and council is so tedious, I wish I could curl up in your library too - but let's forget about the book." Eowyn said.

Faramir smiled. "Maybe later. _You_ can leave at any time."

"Yes but that would be very impolite. As Wife of the Steward of Gondor it is my duty to sit through this council. It is _your_ duty, no, honour to sit at the head of council and control the squabbling."

Faramir sighed. "Aragorn is so much better at this than me."

"You are a great leader," Eowyn was quick to reassure him.

"I wish he were here. He at least seems to enjoy this."

The exited chatter of the council could be heard from through the thick oak doors. As customary for the head of council, they had arrived after everyone else. Faramir straitened, gave Eowyn a quick smile and strode in. The noise died down gradually. There was silence by the time Faramir reached the great chair at the top of the room. Tiers of seats ran around the brightly lit council chamber, filled with nobles and officials.

He shared a smile with Arwen who sat to his right. Eowyn sat next to her friend and whispered in her ear making her giggle. After another glance at the two most powerful women in Gondor, Faramir stood.

"My Lords and Ladies," he announced "Council is now in session. What business would you present to be discussed?

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This time, Aragorn recognised the approaching footsteps as belonging to the lieutenant sent to protect him. The last encounter with the man had only provided more questions. Well now he would demand answers.

The door opened to reveal a furious Tonalion. "Out," he growled.

Aragorn quickly obeyed, mindful of the small but sharp knife slung in the man's belt.

An addition had been made to the room. On one wall, five chains were hung. Their placement only fuelled Aragorn's anxiety. _They could be for anything, _he told himself but his panicked mind did not quite believe it. He was pushed hard into the wall. He grunted at the impact of his bruised back against the wall. The man pressed up against him and wrenched his arms out to the side. Aragorn's fears were confirmed as his wrists were chained spread out just above his head. they were pulled tight and he wouldn't have been surprised if his arms dislocated from his shoulders. To his relief, he was lifted. Surprisingly he was griped in only one arm while the other focussed on chaining his ankles. He was dropped suddenly and gasped as the chains pulled tight. His feet reached down to the floor but only the very ends of his toes touched the stoned. He was not completely suspended but could not support his weight. Rough hands reached behind his head for the last restraint. This was made of cracked but strong leather. It fastened around Aragorn's neck but he was relieved it was loose. That was until the buckle was pulled tight.

All thoughts of asking questions fled from Aragorn's mind. He was finding it difficult to breathe and was not sure he could speak. The weight his arms held pulled his chest tight and every breath strained his tortured wrists and shoulders. His neck was held tightly and the old strap took some of his weight. He struggled to push up to relieve the pressure but could not get enough weight against the floor. His legs kicked weakly but the jolting and removal from the floor only made the situation worse.

After that, he resolved to remain still. Tonalion had stepped back and was looking at Aragorn with the expression of a sculptor studying a new block of marble.

With a satisfied nod, Tonalion walked over to sit on the bench carved into the opposite wall. "Want to play a game Sire?" he asked in a malicious tone.

Aragorn swallowed with difficulty. _This does not sound good_.

"What shall we play? hmm? How about darts?"

To Aragorn's horror, The man pulled a bundle of darts from a sack on the floor. "I may be a bit rusty, not played for a while you see." He made a lengthy show of closing an eye, squinting, and aiming the tiny arrow gripped between his fingers. Aragorn's eyes flew wide as the dart was released. _Thud. _The arrow pierced the wall above Aragorn's shoulder. The thought that they could be thrown into rock did not help Aragorn's laboured breathing. Another dart was aimed. _Thud_. This one landed just above his head. One skittered across the rock just inches from Aragorn's leg. Tonalion had a grin on his pale face. He was enjoying this, even if he hadn't hit Aragorn yet. Three more arrows were sent hurtling towards him to just miss his body.

His captor's face turned serious. As he aimed the arrow with precision, Aragorn knew this one would not miss. He braced himself for the bite of the dart. The time dragged out. He closed his eyes and breathed as deeply as the restraints allowed.

_Thud!_

The sound was similar to that of the arrow hitting the wall. The sound, however, was not foremost in Aragorn's eyes. With a flash of white hot pain, his thigh had been hit. He felt the sharp head pierce skin, tear muscle and scrape bone. He made no sound save for a low hissing. His entire being was focused on the pain.

Before he even opened his eyes, there was another sharp pain, in his left hand.

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Faramir sighed and massaged his temples before interrupting the debate. "King Elessar decreed that food should be set to aid the refugees in the South." He held up a hand to silence a protest. "There is no point in arguing about something already decided."

"But My Lord!" A Landowner from the South stood up. "I'm not contesting our wise king's decisions." Faramir and Arwen exchanged a glace. That was exactly what the man had been doing. "My Lord, surely we are missing the point here. These people are a terrible strain on Gondor. Many of my villages face starvation because of all the extra mouths to feed."

"That is why we will sent food."

"Yes My Lord," the man persisted, "but surely we can't send food indefinitely. We need to stop these people getting into Gondor. I want to know what are the Elves doing about it?" There were a few nods in response to this. "I've got nothing against our Elven friends but they live near the border. They should do something about it."

_How does Aragorn deal with this? _

"Prince Legolas, please present your views on this situation."

Legolas stood with grace and bowed. "We have no quarrel with these people. They have done nothing wrong. We should help them not harm them. However if the council wish for us to meet with the refugees as they enter then we will. Information and advice can be given. We could offer aid at an early stage and distribute them across the country."

Although there were many nods at Legolas' words, Another man stood and shouted "All the Elves ever do is talk. We need to _do_ something."

Once again, Faramir sighed. It was going to be a long morning.

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Aragorn tried to concentrate on his breathing and forget everything else. It was not easy. There were no more darts coming at him. This shafts of wood stuck out from his legs and arms. Tonalion was accurate in hitting only Aragorn's limbs. The slightest movement sent flames of pain shooting up to his chest. His weight was now suspended more on the darts which pinned him to the wall than the chains. He felt dizzy. He was not able to draw enough air into his lungs for the pain it flared always lost him his breath.

The chains were removed quickly. Aragorn fell onto the floor, his arms and legs screaming at him where the short arrows had fought to stay in the wall.

Aragorn croaked "Why?"

This was obviously the wrong thing to do because he was hauled up onto his feet. Tonalion screamed into his ear, "Address me as Bwana."

Hurt, tired and afraid, Aragorn complied. "Why Bwana?" he whispered.

Tonalion hissed "For my son. I do this for my _son_."

With the last word, he thrust his dagger into Aragorn's back. There was a scream. Aragorn stiffened, his eyes widened and he gasped for breath. He thought he had experienced all pain could do. He was wrong, this was beyond anything he could recall. In his mind, he screamed out desperately. How he wanted to be safe at home; him, Arwen and Legolas.

_**Legolas! **__Legolas, I need you here. Legolas it hurts. Legolas please, save me. Legolas. _

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The most important elf in Gondor stopped in the defence of his people abruptly. Faramir frowned to see his face turn pale. People ran foreword to catch the prince as he fell. Healers flew into the room, pushing concerned Lords and Ladies from their paths. Legolas lay pale and unresponsive in a circle of watchers. He moaned softly, curled to his side and shut his eyes on the world.

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**AN:** I'd like to take a moment to thank my lovely reviewers. So a big thank you goes to AragornIsTheBest, Val, Syl and Nosterineth for their support and corrections. Cookies with smarties on top and chocolate chips inside to Devon-Cullen, Ohtar Vicky and Invisigoth3 for doggedly reviewing nearly every chapter. Thank you all.


	9. Day two

**AN:** Dedicated to Spam.

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

_**~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~**_

Aragorn woke and wished he hadn't. Along with the aches of his body before, his arms and legs burned like fire. The thin wooden shafts had been removed and he was surprised to see clean white cloth wound around the wounds. The bandages, although preventing infection and bleeding, did nothing for the pain. He could_ feel_ the torn holes through his muscles and it did not feel good. Even that was not the worst pain. He was sitting against the wall with no shirt on. His back screamed at him. There was another bandage aroud it. Even with limited vision on the bandages, he saw they were stained red. Continuing his checklist of hurts, he inspected his ankles. The skin was red and inflamed. He reached down to touch it but found it strained his back too much. His wrists were the same, red, sore and ugly. A flash of white showed through on deep channel cut into the skin. His neck welt hot and swolen. Aragorn felt as if he were trying to breathe past an obsticle lodged in his throat.

A white object in the corner showed through the gloom. Slowly he crawled towards it. It was a bucket. From the rude taunt that had been scrawled on the side, he saw it was for sanitary purposes. At least it was an improvement to using a corner as a toilet.

He sank down by the bucket and focussed on breathing. Quick actions could kill one in such a situation. He would wait for this would end. It had to. All things end.

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"Legolas?"

He heard someone say his name and recognised the voice as Arwen's.

"Legolas? Are you awake?"

He opened his eyes and slowly sat up.

"Arwen?" His head felt foggy as if something important had hapened whch he was trying remember. "What happened?" he asked, taking in the all too familier healing room.

A healer walked over and asked how he was. _Fine. Did something happen?_ He was confused when the healer checked his eyes and felt his face for fever. His shirt was unlaced and the man bent to examine his breathing.

"You were speaking in council," Arwen explained, "when you lost focus of the world. It was like you had left us."

Legolas closed his eyes and tried to remember. He had been expressing the elves' wish for peace in their new home when... he heard a voice? _No, it was not quite a voice. _Yet it was in that it was words screamed across the abyss. They too had called his name. Begged for help. He had felt Aragorn behind those words. Knew his friend needed him. Fear took his heart as he remembered the distress of the sending.

"Rest for the next few days and you will be fine. You are free to go," the healer told him.

Legolas rose and strode out of the room without a glace back. Arwen, with all the grace of the elves, ran after him. She caught his arm in the main corridor.

"Legolas, what is it?"

"I have to go." He turned to continue on his way.

"Is something wrong?"

Legolas turned and held her shoulders, looking into her eyes. What he whispered low under his breath worried her. _Arwen, I am so sorry._ After a moment, he spoke.

"It's Aragorn. He's in trouble. I have to go and find him."

"What kind of trouble, what happened?"

Legolas looked down. "I don't know. I just know he's in trouble and I have to go to him."

"You can't just run off on your own and abandon everything. Come with me. We'll find Faramir. He will be in the thrown room now. Then we will decide what to do." She took his arm and led him up the stairs to the audience rooms.

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This time, he didn't bother to stand for Tonalion's entrance. What was the point? His captor knelt beside him and brushed the dark hair back from Aragorn's face. The simple geture made Aragorn shiver. It did not hurt him of threaten him in anyway. It was just not the sort of thing a sadistic torturor, traitor and kidnapper would do. Lord Elrond had always brushed back his hair like that; when he was sick destressed or weary of his burden. The thought of his Adar, far away from him, brought tears into his eyes. One spilled over, slowly tracing its way down Aragorn's face._ What if I never see Ada again?_

He found he was thrown forward into the arms of the other man. "It's alright, I'm here," he was reasured. Then he was swept up by the strong arms and carried to lie on the bench in the other room.

Stunned, he sat supported still by Tonalion and asked in a hoarse voice "Why?"

"I had a son once." The Luetenant's voice was distant. "He was so kind and brave and always made people smile." One hand absently rubbed Aragorn's back. "I remember his smile, I will always remember." He sighed sadly. "When war came, he was determined to defend his world. I told him not to go, but he just smiled his smile. I gave him my blessing and my own boots. My baby set off to fight someone else's battle against someone else's enemy."

Aragorn did not interupt the pause in the monolougue. After blinking away tears, it was continued once more. "My son died out there on the battlefeild. He died alone, but you will never be alone." Aragorn was once again pulled into a tight hug. "I will be your Bwana, you will be my son. I will take care of you.

He walked away and came back with a water flask and a plate of bread and dried fruits. "Are you thirsty?" he asked, sitting back down, a little too close for Aragorn's comfort.

Aragorn swallowed and admitted "yes."

There was a low chuckle, "that should be 'yes Bwana'. Go on, say it."

"Yes, Bwana."

The flask was lifted to his mouth. He reached out to it but had his hands swatted away. _I'm not going to be fed like an invalid again_. He pushed against the restraining hands to take the flask.

"No, no," Tonaion said. "Barindor let me take care of him."

"Barindor?" Aragorn asked, using the destriction to hold the flask.

"My son. He did not fight me. You should not fight me."

The flask was pulled back out of Aragorn's hands. Tonalion removed his belt. He grasped Aragorn's wrists and bound them tightly behid his back. "I don't want you to hurt yourself," was his explanation. "Say thankyou."

"Thankyou," Aragorn said, afraid to anger his captor. He recieved a sharp blow across his cheek.

"Thankyou Bwana," He quickly ammended and was rewarded by a soft caress down his smarting cheek.

There was nothing he could do but sit and passivly swallow the water. It was cool and refreshing, soothing to his damaged throat. After his mouth was tenderly wiped, the bread was torn into small pieces. Tonalion slowly fed him. He only realised how hungry he was after eating some. It was simple food but to someone starved for two days, it was as good as what the cooks produced for state feasts.

When all the food was gone, Aragorn was adjusted in Tonalion's arms. He was in a fairly comfortable reclined position but his still bound hands cause come discomfort.

"Sleep now, little one, I will watch over you."

Aragorn closed his eyes but did not try to sleep. He was lying in the arms of a man who had used him like a dartboard just for fun. He lay stiff and unmoving waiting for something he did not know. After a while, Tonalion comented on the fact he did not sleep. He raised the metal plate in one hand and smashed it down on Aragorn's head. The last thing Aragorn heard that morning was "Sleep now little one, Bwana will watch over you."

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**AN:** I am a review vampire. _Feed_ me.


	10. The body is not a threadbare rag

Dedicated to Jess, Happy Birthday.

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

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The moment Eowyn saw Legolas, she knew something was wrong. She leaned over and whispered in Faramir's ear. He glanced up then stood up. Exusing themselves, they walked over to a small door in the corner. Arwen and Legolas made their was through the mass of people to the door and slipped inside.

It was a small meeting room. A circular table was surrounded by strait backed chairs. They all sat. Legolas told his story.

He was convinced that his friend was in danger and had called out to him. His conviction meant no of the friends around the table doubted him. There was a moment of silence which Legolas finally broke.

"We have to find him," he announced rising from his chair. "Come on, we have to go."

"Wait a minute, Legolas," Faramir said. "Arwen is quite right. We can't just abandon our posts and go running off on a feeling."

Legolas shouted, "A feeling? Aragorn called to me, I know it."

"I have no doubt but what will the people say?"

"And we don't know what kind of danger there is," Eowyn interjected. "I would be unwise to rush into an unknown situation."

"But Aragorn is hurting. Please, we have to go." Legolas was begging for support. "I can't just leave him."

"No one is suggesting we do," Arwen reassured him. Then she turned to Faramir. "You are our steward, guardian of Gondor while her king is away. What do you say?"

"It is only the afternoon of the second day. We should wait until three days have gone by since Aragorn left. Then, if he still hasn't returned, we will send out a search party," Faramir caught Legolas' look and emphasised, "A _large _search party. I will ask Harron to organise three groups with a dozen men in each. They will ride out to see what has befallen Aragorn."

"I just wish there was something we could do before then," Arwen sighed. "I hate not knowing. We have no evidence to suggest there is trouble in the mountains but I too feel uneasy. I would not doubt the bond between Legolas and Aragorn. It does make sense to wait though," she conceded.

"We will see what happens tomorrow. Until then, I suggest you finish whatever business you have. We don't know what is to happen.

There were slow nods at Faramir's words. No one liked the situation but no one could change it. They walked out in silence.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Aragorn came back to awareness suddenly. A jolt of pain had torn him from his sleep. He hissed between his teeth as a blunt needle was threaded through his skin. It stabbed deeply and tore at his flesh. _What new torture is this? _There was a methodical rhythm to the stabs and pulls. He was careful to make no more noise. He wanted to analyse the situation before displaying his conciousness. The needle was plucking at a spot, high on his leg. Dimly, he remembered a dart burying itself there.

_Someone is stitching the wound,_he realised. Yet this was nothing like the gentle ministrations of Gondor's healers. A healer himself, he easily saw the faults in his treatment. The needle was too blunt; It painfully bit in each time will too much force. The stitches were too deep, not lying under the skin as they should. The thick thread felt like rope as it was drawn through the newly punctured holes. Aragorn was sure the wound was now a criss-cross of irregular stitches. _Painful as it is, it might help it heal._

The needle darted in and out near he surface, over itself then sharply pulled tight. Aragorn yelped at the tugging on his wound. There was no point pretending to sleep any longer. He decided to impart some of his wisdom to the would-be healer.

"The body is not a threadbare cloth needing to be patched up. _Knot _the end of the thread, don't backstitch," he snapped.

He regretted speaking a moment later whan he was punched hard on his bruised ribs. The pain which had died down in the past day or two flared.

"You will _not _speak to me like that." The voice of Tonalion snapped. "I was helping you, caring for you and all you do is criticise. Never question my methods. Understood?"

"Yes, Bwana," Aragorn gasped when the onslaught was over.

"Now lie still."

There was nothing Aragorn could do but grit his teeth, clench his hands and remain still in fear as his other dart wounds were stitched in the same rough maner. However, a momentary smile crossed his face as each set of stitches was carefully tied off with a precise knot.

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Legolas let out a small sigh as he softly slipped into a chair, facing the fire in his room. It had been a long day. Not being a permanent resident in the city, he had fewer official duties then his friends. However, as he had discovered that day, he had far too many. Tasks had to be completed or delegated. Provisions had to be made for his absence. It was difficult for him to focus on his work when he knew Aragorn needed him. Each time he had to seek a trusted guardian for each duty, he wondered why. Why should they be playing 'happy kingdoms' when his friend was in grave danger? It took great control not to leap on Arod's back and fly off in search of his friend. Faramir wanted him to wait another day and two more nights. Eowyn agreed with her husband. She had spent part of the afternoon with Legolas, imploring him to be patient. Even Arwen, who Legolas had expected to be off faster than himself was waiting. He had seen how it pained her to stay but she told him it made sense to wait.

He could not wait. Not any longer. Not with the thought of danger in his mind.

He walked over to a cupboard and pulled out his leather pack. He stuffed clothes, food and healing supplies in. The strap pulled tight around the bulging bag. He filled his water skin from the jug on the desk and tied it to his pack. He swiftly changed out of his bright court robes into a simple brown tunic with dark Green leggings. His thickest cloak was pulled from his wardrobe and wrapped around his shoulders. Next, he arranged his quiver and bow on his back. He strapped two short daggers under his tunic, picked up the pack and padded out onto the balcony. Two long white knives shone in the moonlight. Reverently, he lifted them and slid them into place under his quiver. Fully prepared to follow his heart, he jumped onto the wall, lowered himself down the other side on his hands and dropped.

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**AN: **This chapter was really hard to write. I apologise for the time taken, quality, length and content. Please leave me a review, it helps me to write a lot quicker.


	11. Into the mountains

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

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The moon illuminated the road with a white glow. The fields on either side waved in the wind. The long grasses which grew by the side of the road dipped and whipped round as the horse sped past them. Legolas rode with his head bowed against the wind, pressed forward towards Arod's stretched out neck. His hair, silver in the moonlight, flew out behind him. The rhythm of the powerful body beneath him matched the beat of his heart. He was still within sight of the city. If he was discovered missing soon, he would be seen from the tall towers. There was no plan in his mind. He knew he would have to travel at a slower pace to think and track his friend _but not yet_. He reveled in the ride. The world was animated. It spun past him in a blur. It felt good to escape from everything and just ride away.

As the morning wore on, he saw no sign of being followed, nor of those he followed. The air grew darker and the trees grew higher but they held no terror for the wood elf. The path sharply twisted to avoid a large tree growing at the base of the mountains. Legolas whispered to Arod who slowed to walk around the lebethron. He picked his way carefully over the twisting roots. He felt the old tree calling out to him, wanting to tell him something. Rounding the wide trunk, he found a sheltered niche behind where he dismounted. He walked up to the tree and reverently rested him hands and head against the rough bark. Being a wood elf, he could feel the trees' existences, their record of life. Through this connection, although he could not talk with trees, the old lebethron gave the elf a sense of what it had witnessed two evenings past.

Legolas stepped away after a moment the looked critically at his surroundings. Something had happened here and Aragorn's troubles started here. Couching on the ground, he could discern the scuffed remains of a carefully hidden fire. There was no other sign in the surrounding dry soil. He moved further out to the trees and spotted a dark patch in the wiry grass. Turning the soil with his delicate hands, he found a trail of blood hidden under raked soil and sand. It had been carefully hidden but now he knew of the deception, Legolas uncovered the signs of a camp and a fight under the shadow of the mountain.

Legolas hunted around at the bottom of the cliff for more signs or a clue to where Aragorn was. He found that clue behind a large boulder resting in a crack in the cliff. Behind the boulder, a few planks of a light wood, nailed together had been wedged in the crack's wide base. It easily came away when he tugged at it. The space behind was black but the moving air suggested the opening went far back and opened up. Arod snorted, reminding him master of his presence. Legolas walked back to his horse and whispered for him to stay by the tree, under the shelter of the cliff's overhang.

The wood elf took a deep breath before crawling into the black opening in the side of the mountain.

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"That trying elf!" Faramir exclaimed to no one in particular. The servant who had whispered in his ear took a hasty step back.

"What's wrong, my love?" Eowyn inquired across the small breakfast table.

"Legolas has gone off after Aragorn on his own. He left a note." He brandished the square of paper angrily. "It says things were going too slow and he has ridden out on his own. He asks us not to follow him."

"But now there may be two in danger."

"I know," Faramir sighed then raised his voice again, "but that just makes it all the more irritating."

"I suppose we have no choice now but to go after them?"

"Aye, who knows what they could get up to."

With that, breakfast was cut short and the council was called early to discuss the impending search for King Elessar of Gondor and Prince Legolas of Mirkwood.

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Aragorn had been lying on the hard floor for what seemed like hours. His Bwana had left him after caring for his wounds. He was quite content to stay still for movement pulled painfully at the knife wound in his back. He knew his situation left a lot to be desired but was filled with a lazy sense of contentment.

He heard the now familiar footsteps of his Bwana approaching and turned his head to watch him coming towards the open door. It did not reg ester in his mind there were no barriers between him and the outside world. He smiled when the man knelt at his side for he was thirsty and knew he would be given water now.

He did not resist when he was helped to stand and led outside. Although he was supported by an arm around his waist, he did not mind for he was feeling weak from the lack of food anyway and what was the point in fighting?

He was set down carefully on the bench in the larger chamber. He was fed like last time but minded no longer. Then his Bwana uncorked the flask and Aragorn drank the welcome liquid. He was happy to rest against the other man and sip from the flask raised to his lips. He hungrily gulped down the water to be mildly disappointed when he had finished. The food made him feel drowsy so he let his eyes slip closed. He had slept a lot but what else was there to do? He grew more and more sleepy as he reclined against his Bwana. It was not long until he fell into a blissful slumber.

_**~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~**_

Legolas hated caves. He aways had and always would. The space he found himself in was a cramped tunnel with barely any light. After just a yard, to his relief, the tunnel opened out into a passage tall enough to stand in and wide enough that it did not feel like the walls were closing in to eat him. Brackets set sparingly against the wall held unlit torches. Legolas did not need his elven sight to see the room at the end of the passageway. A faint glow emanated from it, spilling into the end of this tight corridor.

He emerged to a natural cave. A steady stream of water fell from a hole above him to a channel carved through the centre of the floor. Benches had been carved out of the sides of the cave and littered with flat cushions for comfort. A square opening had been cut from the rock to his right. Finding nothing of interest where he was, he walked into the opening in the wall.

There was a man made corridor here. It was short and led into a brightly lit cavern. Comfortable chairs stood against the walls and by a round table in the centre. A plush orange rug covered the stone floor. Two doors led from this chamber either side of a crackling fire. The first one revealed a modest bedroom, the other, a small room with channels of running water.

Someone had made a home under the mountains. It was small but comfortable. There was no sign of anyone but Legolas had not looked everywhere yet. A curtain hung over the opening of another passage in the northen wall. This one was roughly cut, and freshly judging by the sharp edges that caught at his tunic. A duller light shone aroud a bend in the passage. His heart thumped strongly in his chest as he followed it around, trying to make as little sound as possible.

The caver beyond was large. Chains hung from the wall to his right, a door hung open to the left. A stone bench ran around most of the room opposite where he stood. His attention was captured by the figures sitting on this bench. There sat a man he recognised as one of the city guards and in his arms lay the man who meant so much to Legolas.

"Estel," he breathed, taking in the lifeless body. Blood and dirt clung to the bare skin in streaks of red, brown and black. Large ugly bruises stood out in swollen patches all over the naked body. Sweaty clumps of hair hung over the eyes but Legolas knew they were closed. Aragorn made no sign of being aware of his surroundings.

The guard stood and gently lowered Aragorn to lie on the bench. He drew his sword and pointed it steadily at Logolas' heart.

This broke Legolas' silent shock. "What have you done to him?" he cried. He was torn between running to his friend or running the guard though with his knife. Worry won out and he anxiously ran to bend over his friend's face.

"Aragorn. Aragorn! Wake up. Can you hear me?" The man remained unmoving. "Come on Estel."

The choice was his mistake he realised when his wrists were grabbed and wrenched up high above his head. Before he could retaliate, a sharp blade bit into his back, drawing a trickle of elven blood.

"Look at him. You will pay for what you have done to him, elf. You will pay for what you have done to _me_."

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**AN: **Et Voila. Please do leave me a review. Everyone else in my house has gone to sleep but I stayed up extra late for you. All I ask in return is a little message. Thankyou.


	12. Gedin

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

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Legolas groaned as a sharp spike was drawn down his back. He was chained to the unyielding wall of the underground chamber. His captor was employing a bracket ripped from the wall to tell Legolas what he had done to warrant capture. He was telling him by carving it into his back.

Legolas did not cry out, the marks were no more than scratches really. He had received much worse wounds before, or so he tried to tell himself, but it was noteasy with the sharp pain flaring across his skin. The man behind him was muttering and hissing hateful words into one delicately pointed ear.

"You want to hurt my son. Stay away from him. You can't have him."

The man had been ranting on this same track for some time. Legolas could not extract any sensefrom it because the man had also been bemoaning the death of his son. Staying still and waiting it out seemed the best option. He glanced over his left shoulder at his friend. Aragorn was still set like a statue on a pedestal, so still upon the bench where he slept. Wincing, he turned his face back to the wall. Aragorn had notwoken at his shouting, he slept on the uncomfortable bench with no cushion for his head as though it were one of the soft elven beds of Lorien. In his mind, Legolas screamed to his friend, begging for a response but there was none.

The grating down his back stopped abruptly. The guard who had taken him walked away. No matter how he craned his neck, Legolas was no owl and could not see where his captor had gone to. The footsteps returned after a minute. Heavy breathing at the back of his neck was the only warning he had before a bucket of salt water was thrown over his back.

Gasping in shock, he forgot to struggle when the chains were released. His wrists and ankles were bound with a thick rope while he still tried to get over the sudden pain.

When his breathing calmed, Legolas leveled his gaze at the man who was busily tying his upper arms to his sides. "Why have you restrained me?" He asked in a controlled voice.

"Do you know who I am?" was the enigmatic reply.

Not wanting to enrage the man further, Legolas answered the question. "You are one of the city guards. Harron's second in command I think. Lieutenant Barindor Tonalion?"

"So you think you know me do you?" The Lieutenant's voice held an edge of danger, like the blade of a knife.

Legolassettled on the answer least likely to cause offence. "I know a little of you but would not say I know you as say a friend," he ventured.

"Why should you get to know me? What am I to you, elf? You care so little for my people; I bet you didn't even know my son's name."

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had a son," Legolas said in a slow voice trying to diffuse the situation."

"My son died for you. You came with your war, demanded we fight for you and took my son. Yet still you live. Why do you live when he died?"

His captor's face right in his, Legolas whispered, "I'm sorry about your son. Many died whom I grieve. None can know who will survive a war and who will not. Your son did not give his life in vane. He died so that our enemy-"

"_Your_ enemy."

"Sauron threatened all the free peoples. Your son fought for Gondor. You dishonour his memory with this crazy quest for vengeance."

"You dishonour his memory." The words were accompanied by a forceful punch. Bound as he was, Legolas could not prevent himself falling backwards onto the hard floor.

He opened his mouth to speak again but thought better of it when Tonalion took a threatening step foreword. Seeing his captive shut up, he walked back to his room and returned with a blanket. He took it into the small room leading off this bigger cavern and spread it on the floor. Ignoring Legolas, he carefully lifted Aragorn into his arms. Whispering softly to him, he took the unconscious man into the cell. Aragorn was gently lowered onto the blanket and a tender kiss placed on his brow. His expression was anything but tender when he turned back to Legolas. The prince was thrown into the cell, landing on his stomach beside his friend. The heavy door slammed shut and the bold was drawn with a definitive clunk.

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Faramir and a small company of six guards rode hard under the midday sun. The farming town of Gedin was their destination. At the pace they flew down the road, they would arrive before nightfall. Their urgent mission was to find their king and bring him to safety. Only the most trusted guards rode out with their steward. Harron hand pick this small party of his finest warriors, riders and investigators. They followed the hoof prints of a horse shod in the elven style. Legolas had come this way the night before, leaving these imprints in the dusty soil.

After a few hours, they slowed as the road dipped into a sheltered cove. The ground was sandy and churned. The tracks showed Arod had stopped for a while here. The footfalls of an elf were too light to leave an impression behind but Faramir concluded Legolas must have dismounted because Arod had paced around the open space impatiently.

"My Lord, the tracks continue to Gedin."

Faramir inspected the tracks leaving the clearing and agreed with the guard. Arod had followed the road at a fast pace.

"We will follow," he commanded, then remounted.

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Legolas sat shivering, watching over his friend. Aragorn had not moved. He lay in sleep, breathing heavily and evenly. Legolas took in the many bandages over the man's arms and legs. He shivered, drawing his knees up to retain some of the heat rapidly escaping into the stone prison. Elves did not normally feel the cold but shock lowed his defences,stripped of his shirt and tunic, Legolas suffered from the lack of a comforting fire. He longed to go out and see the sun but could not leave his friend like this.

With a small moan, Aragorn's head rolled to the side. Bleary grey eyes cracked open. They blinked rapidly and the dry mouth opened a fraction.

"Le-Legolas?" he breathed.

"I am here, mellon nin." Legolas grasped Aragorn's hand reassuringly between his own bound ones.

"You are cold," Aragorn said. Slowly, he sat and pulled the blanket from underneathth himself. He wrapped it around his friend's shivering form. Legolas winced as the rough fabric aggrivated his cut back. "Are you hurt?" Aragorn frowned.

"I am fine," Legolas reassured with an easy lie. To his surprise, Aragorn accepted his reply. With a wide yawn, the man setted back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Are _you _hurt?" Legolas asked.

Aragorn said around another yawn, "Not really, just tired." He rested his head on the convenient elven shoulder by his side, nestling into the long blond hair.

"Are you sure? You are covered in bandages."

"It aches a bit," Aragorn mumbled.

"Aragorn, what happened?"

There was no answer, Aragorn just sunk lower down the wall. Legolas wrapped his armed around the sliding body and rested it back against his shoulder.

"Aragorn?"

"So tired." his friend muttered into his neck.

"Then sleep," Legolas conceded. "I have you, sleep now."

The human did exactly as the elf said and fell back into a deep sleep.

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They made the centre of Gedin with an hour to sundown. With no official mayor in the town, a group of respected old men came to greet them. They were greeted warmly but showed dismay when they found the king was not with the riders.

"Does the king consider our poblems below him that he would not come in person?" one of the town's folk asked.

"The King rode out to settle your disputes three days ago. He did not return and we became concerned. We have come to find him. I take it then that King Elessar did not arrive?"

Worried faces looked around as if to see their king standing among them.

"What of an elf? He is tall with fair hair and wears the insignia of Greenwood. He is here?" Faramir asked the growing crowd.

"No elves have come this way recently," a balding middle aged man told them. "I am Finrod. I keep the inn here. If you gentlemen need rooms for the night, I can provide them."

Faramir accepted the offer and led the search party down the main street to the inn. They handed their horses to two boys who worked in the town's stables. It was a relief to get in the warm cosy interior of the inn. They were offered the best table by the fire, hurriedly being scrubbed clean by a skinny young woman in a shapeless dress and apron. She gave a small curtsy when finished and ran off. Almost as soon as they sat down, seven sparkling pewter mugs of a rich orangy brown liquid were set before them.

It seemed that the whole town crowded into the inn that night to see their Steward and the men from 'The Big City' who served the king.

After the noise had calmed a bit and many people had left for home, a boy approached Faramir.

"Excuse me, Sir," he said timidly. Faramir encouraged the boy with a smile. "My Dad says he wants to talk to you. He says its about the King and the elf. He has information. Only," the boy's looked around conspiratorially then his voice dropped to a whisper, "he says he wants to tell you privately. He says its not for all ears."

Faramir humoured the boy with another smile before telling him that if daddy wanted to talk, daddy would surely have come himself. He gave the boy a little push back into the crowd. Before the crowd swept the boy away, a grubby hand reached out and grasped his. When the hand had gone, Faramir raised the object lying o his palm closer to his eyes for inspection. There was no mistaking the treasure in his hand. It was the ring of Barahir.

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**AN: **A huge thankyou to my reviewers, especially **invisigoth3, Ohtar Vicky **and **Ninfea di Luna**.


	13. A tongue lashing

**AN: **Leggy torture alert: teddy bears, tissues and heart meds recomended.

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Legolas had been lying propped against the wall for some time. in his arms, he still clutched the sleeping body of the king. He had not woken again and Legolas was worried. Both of them slept lightly, they had to in the dangerous world they lived in. Here they were, in the control of a maniac, and Aragorn was doing a good impression of the baby pincess - sleeping like a log.

Hearing approaching footsteps, he lowered his friend onto the ground. Taking the blanket from around his shoulders, he folded it and slipped it under his friend's head.

He was standing ready when the door creaked open.

Just as he had expected and feared, Tonalion was standing framed in the doorway. The man had stripped to a pair of dark trousers and the effect was menacing.

"Come out here, I want to show you something," he said with a sweep of his hand, gesturing to the room beyond.

Tentatively, but with his head held high, Legolas walked out. He stopped when he saw the once bare room filled with objects. Some were small, some were large, some recognisable, some from dreams, they all taunted him as he wondered at this new change.

"Do you like it?" Tonalion asked, picking an object up from a side table. Legolas' eyes widened as he recognised it as a whip. A stout wooden handle was wound in strips of leather. They hung loose from one end in half a dozen strands. The thin leather strips ended with tight knots. "I had them brought in here just for you. Some of these peaces were made specially." The man walked over to a slanted sheet of metal with sharpened shelved protruding from it. The overall effect was that of a step ladder, only more dangerous. The man turned and with his back to Legolas, asked "Do you want to die, elf?"

"No," Legolas replied firmly.

"Then just ask and I wont kill you."

Legolas suspected this was a trick of some sort of trick but answered none the less, "Please do not kill me," in an even voice. He was careful to show no hint of pleading, not wanting to satisfy his captor's obvious desire for dominance.

"All right then." Tonalion said. He grabbed some cushioned blocks from a corner and slotted them in between the sharp protruding blades.

Legolas found himself pulled foreword to rest against the table. His chin fitted on top, resting against the cold steel. His arms were untied. His hands were pulled around and bound to the back of the sheet of metal. He could feel the blades digging into his front. The blocks just prevented him from being sliced into pieces. His legs were spread and tied down. There was now little movement afforded to him.

His breath quickened as he waited for the lash of the whip. It condensed on the frame he was bound to and wafted away in white streams. The tongue of the whip was waved in front of his eyes. He closed them to force away unwelcome thoughts of the near future.

At that moment, the whip bit into his back. He screamed against his clenched teeth, vocally releasing the sharp pain. The whip bit again. Again, the leather thongs striped across his back, like a fiery tongue of a snake licking him, tasting him. He arched his back and threw himself foreword against the pain. A new, sharp agony assaulted him. The blades at his front cut into his flesh. the feel of the metal inside his was almost more than Legolas could take. He carefully drew back as far as he could go. The whip flew and smacked across his neck and shoulders. His back arched involuntarily. The duel assault broke his silence. He cried out. It was a long scream, all the air in his lungs was forced out in the loud wordless shout. His voice echoed in the following quiet.

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

Legolas groaned in reply.

"I said; hurts, doesn't it?" Tonalion shouted in his ear.

Legolas turned his head away with a soft groan.

The man stood back then let the whip fly. It sung in the air, whistling and cracking. A dull thwacking sound resounded when it found flesh. Legolas was in agony. His head thrashed from side to side with each stroke. He was beyond rational thinking. He screamed untill he had no breath left. His screams tore at the air until he could scream o more. He could feel the warm blood running in rivulets down his legs. He moaned and sobbed, unable to do anything else. In a voice choked with pain and run dry from screaming, he moaned "Ada, Ada, where are you? Ada? Nana?" The whip paused. His head hung limp as he muttered to ghosts of the past and people who weren't there.

The whip cracked and slashed.

"Ada!"

Legolas slumped. The pain had finally taken him away from that place of horror.

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There was a staccato knock on the door. Everyone stopped their conversations and stared. Faramir was the first to act. He walked over to the door of the dormitory. He opened it a crack and had a short whispered conversation. He stood back to allow an unkempt man to sidle into the room. Faramir led him to a chair and waited while he settled.

"How did you get this?" Faramir lifted a chain from his pocket. The ring on the end shone silver and green.

"There was an attack, I picked it up from the ground. Is it what I think it is?" The man said.

"What's your name?" Faramir asked.

"Aureldir."

"Yes, Aureldir. This is the ring of Barahir." Faramir confirmed. "Tell me what happened."

"I lead a hunting group. We were in the woods East of here, near the road," Aureldir said. "We heard noises, shouts, like a fight. When we went to investigate, there was a gang attacking two travellers who had made their camp. There were too many of them. I didn't want to get my people killed. Thieves attack people on the road all the time. If I'd have known..."

"It's ok, you were worried for your friends. Then what happened?"

"They overpowered the men, took their weapons, tied them up. We watched them drive their captives into the woods. I walked out to where he fight had taken place and I caught sight of that ring. It was just lying there. I picked it up and I recognised it. I was at the coronation, I should have recognised him. I watched my king fighting for his life. I didn't know. We went after them. Followed their trail South. We went as far as we could but..." He paused, passing a hand over his eyes. "...but one of my men, he was wounded. They must have noticed us. He was knocked out. We couldn't follow any further I tried to save him. I tried."

"It's ok," Faramir reassured. "You have told us what happened to King Elessar and now we can help him. Why did you want to tell me privately?"

"Oh, my lord, I'm just scared. Gadin is the only town for mies. What if that gang came from here?"

Faramir crouched in front of the chair and dropped his voice. "Thankyou for coming to me. Your are our only link to King Elessar. Tomorrow, will you take us to where your friend was hurt? We can track them from there."

Aureldir nodded and left, pausing at the door to whisper "Have a restful night, my lords."

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**AN: **C'est ca! I'm busy next week so the next chapter may take a little longer. I love reviews. Thy make me so happy. Please make my day and press the blue button at the bottom of your screen.


	14. Sun, Moon

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

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Early in the morning, when the sun had just risen, the company of guards and the Steward gathered in the main room of the inn for a hearty breakfast. They had left their beds an hour previously and had spent the time preparing for the day. The innkeeper was payed, the bags were packed and the horses readied. As they worked their way through the platters set before them on the table, two men joined the company. Their hoods were pulled low over their eyes and the rain dripped off the from of the fabric. They pulled the sodden cloaks from their shoulders and sat gratefully in font of the fire.

"Good morning, my Lords. This is my friend, Tathoden," Aureldir introduced. "He was with me when we saw King Elessar. He was wounded when we were ambushed." The man by his side supported the story by nodding.

Faramir stood to address them. "I am honored to meet you, Tathoden. I hope you are recovered from your injury."

"Yes, thankyou, my Lord," said Tathoden humbly. He was evidently a little awed by the company he found himself in.

"Please, eat with us. We must be ready for the long day ahead." Faramir invited.

With nine hungry men, the food was quickly gone. When they had finished, they retrieved their packs and walked to the stables. The horses had also eaten a sturdy breakfast and were impatiant to be on the road again. A coin was pressed into the stable boy's hand and then they were away.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Legolas felt a soft cloth wipe his back. Although the ministrations were gentle, his gritted his teeth and groaned with pain. This arrested the movement of the cloth for a moment then it resumed, even lighter in its touch than before.

"Legolas?" Aragorn's voice reassured him. "I'm cleaning the cuts as well as I can. It's ok, just lie still." Legolas complied but could not help a soft whimper passing through his lips. "I'm sorry," Aragorn said and stopped.

"Please, go on," Legolas said, just wanting to know his friend was there and taking care of him.

After a time, he spoke again. "How are you feeling? You slept long and I was worried for you."

"I am well. Worry about yourself melon nin, for I cannot clean your injuries as well as I should with no water."

Aragorn helped him to sit up then set to bandaging his back with strips torn from the blanket.

"What are we going to do?" Legolas asked.

"There's not much we can do," Aragorn replied in a calm resigned way.

"Aragorn, we can't just sit here and wait for that man to kill us." When there was no reply, Legolas changed his concerns to another matter. "You say we have no water? I am thirsty. Have you been without water all this time?"

"No," Aragorn replied. "Bwana brings me water and feeds me."

"Bwana?" Legolas asked.

"The Lieutenant Barindor Tonalion," Aragorn explained. "He lets me out often and takes care of me."

"What is this? He has us imprisoned. He attacked you. He tor- wh- he hurt me Aragorn. He hurt you. What has he done to you?"

"Nothing, do not worry, all will be well. Try to sleep now."

Legolas did not feel at all sleepy. It had not been long since he had been woken. The pain in his back made him miserable. It kept his focus on the waking situation rather than the sleeping. Aragorn however stretched out like a cat with a languid yawn. He clapped his lips together a few times before lying on his side with his head resting on one crooked arm. Within moments, his breathing evened indicating his fall into dreams.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

The company had ridden hard through the day. The sweat running down the horse's flanks was mingled with rain. The downpour had lightened around midday but had not stopped. Dark black clouds pressed down on them from above. The colours around them seemed muted into shades of grey. The riders had long since stopped trying to keep dry. They accepted the rain that soaked through their beings. Some wondered if they might ever feel truly dry again. Through the trials of the day, one purpose drove them on. All determined not to stop until they had found their Liege for none had greater loyalty than those guards riding through the wilds far from their homes.

Faramir was aware they had travelled much further then he had expected. Although he noted it, he was not surprised because surprise is too sharp an emotion to be played against the dullness of that day. The woods seemed endless on either side of him Several times through the journey he asked like an impatient child why they had not arrived at their destination. Every time, he received the same answer: "Not far now, my lord. Just a little further.

When the sun was low in the sky, sending red slats of light through the trees, their guides dropped their speed to a trot.

"The clearing is just through here, my lords," said Aureldir as he swung to the right and disappeared into a thick clump of trees.

Faramir brought up the rear of the company, passing through a tight but short maze of branches to emerge in a clearing. It was roughly circular with long grass swaying underfoot. The horses spared no time in tasting this emerald carpet. The trees grew high and close overhead but the effect was not claustrophobic, rather reassuring and secure.

"My lord, this is where we lost the trail," Aureldir adressed them.

"It is further than I expected. From your account, I thought it was within three or four miles of the road."

"Yes my lord," Aureldir agreed.

"We were coming from another direction though," Tathoden excused. There was a strange glimmer in his eye which set Faramir on edge.

He asked carefully, "So if you came from a different direction, how did you know the way to bring us directly here?"

Tathoden sent an apologetic look at his companion who sighed in reassignment. To some unspoken question, he nodded.

Then the two men stood with their backs slightly turned to each other and drew out their weapons. One brandished a short notched sword and a cruel curved knife. The other levelled a log shining sword at Faramir's heart. He gripped the elven handle in both hands. Eyes widening, Faramir lept back and drew his own sword. Years of training and experience flashed back to his as he took a defensive position. All around, he could hear his guards readying for the coming fight but did not look round. His eyes were fixed strait on Aureldir as the man charged.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Legolas watched his friend sleep. Aragorn's face was pale. His breathing was heavy and deep. Legolas felt a nagging concern. He stretched out a hand to rest it over the man's chest. He could feel a regular thumping, steady but slower than it should be. Alarmed, he felt Aragorn's brow. The skin was slightly cold but not enough to cause further worry. Not knowing what else to do, Legolas settled back again to watch over the sleeping man.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

The guards of Gondor were trained well. They reacted immediately, one darting foreword to guard his Steward, the others forming a circle around their assailants. Aureldir followed through with his thrust to have it parried by the guard protecting Faramir. He was thrown off balance. When he righted himself, he found he was surrounded by three men, three better fighters than he. He fought with the grim determination of one in a hopeless position but was eventually thrown to the ground and restrained.

Tathoden roared as he charged at the remaining three guards. His knifes were deadly sharp. He waved them madly in the air. Their was no technique to his fighting, giving confidence to his opponents but they could not get near. Every time one gained ground, he had to jump back again or receive a nasty cut. Tathoden was tiring but knew his advantage and pressed it.

When Aureldir was bound tightly in coils of rope which, though he struggled, he could not break, a guard carefully took up position behind the man stil fighting. He swung the remaining rope over his head.

Tathoden found a rope pulled tightly over his arms from behind. He overbalanced and fell back. Immediately, he was disarmed and pressed into the floor.

The men from Gondor stood around panting. The sword Aureldir had brandished shone from the now peaceful grass. Faramir reached down and lifted it. The handle was made of shining silver and wrapped in well maintained leather. The long blade was inscribed with delicate elven script.

**Anar**Nányë Andúril i né Narsil i macil Elendilo. Lercuvanten i móli Mordórëo. **Isil**

Faramirs eyes widened as he grasped the significance of the inscription. His quick mind translated the Quenya script.

**Sun.** **I am Andúril who once was Narsil, sword of Elendil. ****The slaves of Mordor shall flee from me****.** **Moon.**

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

**AN: **dun dun duuuuun! How's that? Like it?


	15. Answers

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

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Faramir reverently lifted Anduril. He took the cloth tied to his own scabbard and slowly wiped the shining blade. He studied the fine glistening work of Elven craftsmen.

"Bring his scabbard," he commanded, pointing to the man tied on the floor. While his belts were untangled from his waist, he glared at Faramir with dark eyes full of hate. The reforged sword slid smoothly into it's leather sheath. When securely held, Faramir tied the leather thongs to his own belt, pushing his own sword aside for the Flame of Gondor.

"My Lord?" the curious guards questioned.

"This is Anduril."

Gasps of surprise and awe met the announcement and all turned their heads to examine the legendary blade.

"Where did you get this?" Faramir demanded of the man cowering below him.

"It was lying on the ground after the fight?" Aureldir ventured.

Faramir was not usually a violent man. He was quiet and calm under most circumstances but this blatant lie from the man who had stolen his endangered liege's sword was too much. He swooped down and dragged Aureldir up by the front of his tunic. "Where did you get it?" he repeated, shaking the man hard before dropping him back down.

"My lord, please, forgive me. I had to. I'm just a poor simple farmer, my lord. I have to make ends meet. Please, have mercy on me."

The grovelling softened Faramir's temper. In a level voice, he asked again, "Where did you get this sword?"

"It was payment. We were given all his belongings as payment. I didn't want to my lord. Please."

Tathoden's voice cut across his. "Yes you did. You loved the opportunity to bring our high and might king down from his pedestal."

Faramir rounded on him. "Where is King Elessar?"

"In the mountains, where you'll never find him."

"What happened?"

"That lieutenant of the guards. He came to us and offered us good money for help in securing the king._ Bah_," he spat, "Three of us were killed. Or King sells himself as caring, concerned for the little people. I didn't see that when he knocked me out. We got the better of him in the end. Barindor took him into his home in the mountains. We got a chance to have our fun with him and to show him he deep trouble he was in, then we took his things and scarpered."

After the tale was told, the party was eager to ride out again. The rays of sunlight still reflected from the clouds but Anar had crept below the horizon. The horses were rested enough to ride again but would need to stop for the night soon. The most rational option was for them to make camp in the clearing for the night. This was not a night for rational options. The bound men rode with a guard each, their horses were led at the back of the group, carrying the baggage from the horses which had to carry two riders each. They set off in a direct line towards the White Mountains.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Legolas was surprised to wake because he could not remember falling asleep. His head pounded and his back ached. Slowly, snatches of being chained and knocked unconscious floated up from his memory. He looked around to find himself back in the larger room. Chains clapped around his ankles. Sturdy leather strapped his waist and neck uncomfortably against the wall. His arms were placed to his sides, slightly away from his body and likewise bound.

On the bench to his left, Barindor and Aragorn sat close together. Legolas wanted to call out but his parched throat would utter no sound. He was relieved to see that his friend was unchained but although free in his movements, he leaned trustingly against his captor. They were talking in low voices, to quiet for Legolas' hearing, muted by pain, to discern. He could see a plate of crumbs and an empty water flask set on the floor near by. _Good,_ he thought, _he is cared for_. Aragorn leaned more and more on the other man. When the stood up, Barindor was baring most of Aragorn's weight. _Perhaps not so well cared for_. Legolas watched as they carefully picked their way towards the cell, Aragorn stumbling more than a few times on the short journey. It was a painful sight, but the elf knew there was nothing he could do. Aragorn was gently lowered to the floor. It surprised and slightly discussed Legolas when Barindor knelt and kissed Aragorn's cheek before closing the door on the now sleeping man.

Barindor picked up a wooden case by its woven handle and set it down on a table in front of Legolas. He stroked his fingers down the edges before opening the catches and flipping open the lid. Inside were many small tools of a shining metal. He delicately selected one which looked like a lock pick. It had a long thin handle with a sharp hook on the end. He tuned it over in his hands as he walked around the table to approach his captive. Legolas knew it was for his benefit when the hook was held up to his eyes for examination of it's harsh contours an cruel point. Barindor grabbed a black rag from the box and blindfolded his helpless captive.

Legolas stiffened, at once afraid. He could feel warp breaths against his skin as Barindor drew closer. He had seen that hook and his mind filled with terrible images of what an adventurous man could do with it. He could see nothing but pinpricks of light through the rag's close weave. A cold something ran down his side and he shivered. There was silence again. The sensory depravation was driving him mad. What made it worse was the knowledge that at any moment, his senses could be bombarded by the pain of the hook. The tribulation of waiting for the prick of the hook was suddenly broken by the event. A shallow scratch was traced across his collar. He did not react to the pain but relaxed now the tension was broken.

_Aaaaghh!_

His voice broke over his startled scream. All in one quick movement that seemed inexplicably long, the hook bit. It dug deep into the soft flesh just above his waist. The hook curled until as much of thee cruel fiery metal was sunk into his body as possible. The hook was then ripped out, through layers of tissue, drawing a scream from his lips.

The blindfold was yanked down for him to watch detachedly as the hook, dripping blood, was cleaned and replaced. The next item to be selected was a stick with a blunt conical end. This too was torturously displayed for Legolas to see. The pointed end was rested against the bridge of his nose before it started its journey downwards. He strained to watch them gave up. He could feel it slowly leaving a trail of ice down his neck. Lower. It descended ever slower. Legolas became aware that soon it would meet the knot of fire over his stomach. The point hit the entrance wound with finality. Barindor pushed against it forcing the conical shape further into the wound. All Legolas managed to utter this time was a small groan.

When this torture was over, a new tool was chosen and used to it's full horrific potential. Another followed and another. It seemed to Legolas that Barindor was planning to try every item in the box.

Hours later, when he had finished, Barindor carefully cleared away. He returned the box and wiped the blood from around the limp elf's feet. Legolas hung still in his restraints. He despaired at the hopelessness of the situation. Was he to be tortured every day until he died when his heart could take no more pain? He could not fight or escape. Their captor seemed to delight in hurting them for no reason. With the condition he was in, he could not even protect Aragorn from this mad man. When he was finally released, he did not resist the hand which dragged him back to the crapped cell. There was no point in fighting.

**AN: As usual, I am shamelessly begging you for feedback. Please? *puppy eyes***


	16. Discoveries

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

It was now nearly impossible to see through the trees as they rode. They had gone slower and slower as the horses tired. The riders were not alert, lightly dozing, worn out after the long day. Through the thinning trees could be seen the looming mountains. This sparked a renewed burst of speed from the riders until the broke into bright moonlight reflecting on the cliffs looming above them.

They dismounted in the clearing where it was confirmed the fight had taken place. The cliff was sheer and overhanging. Faramir approached his captives. "Why did you bring us here? There is no way into the mountains. Did you not mean the pass further on?"

"We said _in _the mountain," one man snapped.

His companion clarified in a dejected voice, "In the mountain not over it. The entrance is over there." His finger pointed towards a pile of boulders. Two guards removed them and found a small passage behind.

"It looks like a small stream used to run here, my Lord. There may be a cave inside."

"Right. This is it," Faramir announced. "We don't know what we may find in there but we must enter. There may be many men in opposition to us. Take alive any you can. We may have to be careful if King Elessar or Prince Legolas are injured. Their belongings will probably be hidden somewhere inside. Our main objective is to rescue the king. Focus on this above all else. If this is all we achieve, we will have been successful. Are we ready?" At the grim nods around him, he ushered them into a line, drew his sword and said "Let's go."

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

He heard something, a noise. Was his home discovered? It was the elf. It had to be, elves were dangerous. He would punish the elf. He would force the elf to make it stop. What did they want? Was he to lose his son? In a panic, he flung open the cell door and dragged out the elf.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

The cave was but an antechamber. One cursory glance told them it was of no importance. One of the guards led the way into a regular corridor cut into one wall. Here, they found a cosy cavern. It was made up as a home with chairs, a table and a fireplace with a warm fire combating the chill air gusting through from the entrance.

"Search everywhere," Faramir commanded.

They spread out, turning tables and chairs. Cupboards were opened and tapestries pulled back. Two small rooms leading from the main room were searched with minute care.

"There is nothing in here, my lord."

"My Lord, over here," one man called, pulling back a velvet curtain of deepest red. A dark passageway hid behind. It was as cold and unwelcoming as the room was warm and comfortable. The care which had gone into this part of the tunnel system was a lot less than the rest.

Faramir said, "Let's go."

Nervously, them filled around the twists of the passage and fanned out into the large cavern they found beyond. The space between the roughly hewn walls was filled with tables and frames, supporting objects of every kind. In the centre, Legolas hung suspended from the ceiling by his wrists. One shoulder was obviously dislocated, the strain pulling it painfully further apart. His naked body was covered in blood to the extent it was impossible to see where it originated. He drew breath is short suffocated gasps. Wide eyes stared out of his pale face. They alighted on the men from Gondor and turned pleading.

All six ran foreword to relieve him. They grabbed his legs, his feet, his waist, any part of him they could reach, and lifted, taking the weight off his wrists. Legolas moaned then struggled to control his rapid breathing. One man drew a table near and stood on it, drawing his sword to cut the prince down.

"No!"

The shout startled the all. It came from behind an open door which stood against one wall. Faramir rushed towards it and flung the door closed. In front of him were two men. Lieutenant Barindor Tonalion stumbled backwards. He half dragged the man restrained by his arms.

Aragorn was wrapped in a thin blanket, shivering. His arms were trapped by the blanket and those of his captor lay on top. He was too weak to resist as he was pulled back. He tripped to be pulled upright again. In front of his eyes he could hazily make out a figure, one he recognised, but he could not put a name to it. He stared, willing the name to come to him.

It unnerved and worried Faramir to watch his friend unresisting and shivering. Unfocused eyes tried to catch his before darting around the cavern. They then returned to hold his face in a look of incomprehension. He took a step foreword. "Let him go," he demanded. The man just took another halting step back. Faramir followed and threatened, "Release him or we will make you." The continued retreat of the pair _gave_ him more confidence. "You have committed treason against the house of Gondor." A flash of silver drew his attention to the dagger being drawn by Tonalion. Faramir raised his sword in response. His heart sank as Aragorn's chin was forced up and the tip of the dagger pressed against his bared throat.

"No," Tonalion shouted. "You can't have him. You can't take my son from me again."

One of the guards approached from where they had finally cut down Legolas. "Put down the dagger," he said in a low, steady voice.

"No. If I can't have him, then no one can. I'll kill him. Then we can be together. Yes, no one can separate us then."

"Just but down the dagger," Faramir reiterated.

Both he and the two guards with him leapt as the dagger was drawn back for a moment. Seeing his attackers pounce, Tonalion plunged down with the dagger. The bodies collided and all tumbled to the ground. Tonalion screamed and Aragorn groaned pitifully. The Lieutenant was pulled struggling from the King. It took three men to restrain him before he could be secured. When his struggles and screams had died away, they all stood back to survey the situation. The two nearest guards joined their Steward in anxiously crouching by their king who had not risen.

Aragorn felt so cold and sleepy lying there on the floor. He had heard a great commotion away to his left but did not have the energy to turn his head. Three faces swam before him. Each of his hands were gripped strongly, grounding him. He stared up at the face closest to his. It was that man again. He was saying something. Aragorn recognised the voice and it triggered is memory. _Faramir._ He tried to say the name but it caught in his throat. His name was being called, reassurances were made and questions asked. He tried hard to concentrate on the voices but could not make out what they said. His gaze unwavering from the grey eyes, he sank down into the haze of his weariness.

It worried the men that their king did not respond. After a time when he stared fixedly, his eyes slid closed. Faramir gently shook his shoulders but there was no response. The guards drew back the blanket and together they examined him. He was breathing evenly and deeply but his heart beat dully at a reduced speed. His skin was pale and deathly cold. Bruises of red, yellow and black marred his skin. His abdomen was solid under on large expanse of black. On his arms and legs were many small deep wounds, some going all the way through. They had been attended to and were mercifully uninfected. A square of cotton was carefully pealed away from his back. Underneath was an ugly dagger wound. They all exchanged glances, horrified by his condition and knew that when Aragorn woke, it would be to a world of pain.

Legolas was in an even worse state. He moaned almost constantly from the pain. Washing the blood away revealed the horrific injuries underneath. One of the guards ran out of the cavern and returned carrying their healing supplies. Rolls of bandages were drawn out and applied. Legolas was tightly wrapped, covered in the white strips due to the extent of his injuries. As his arm was moved, his breath caught and he gave a strangled scream. It was firmly pressed against his chest and bandaged in place. It was quite obvious that he was dehydrated. One man lifted the elf to a sitting position while another opened his water skin. They helped Legolas to drink, not minding that he finished all the water. When that was done, they lifted him and carefully carried him outside.

As Legolas was lain on the ground, Faramir and another man came out with their sleeping king between them. His wounds were bandaged and he was soon wrapped in warm blankets. The remaining guard emerged with the bags, pushing Tonalion ahead of him. The three captives were seated together against the rocks. The six men crouched over their wounded companions.

"We need to get them back to Gondor," Faramir whispered. "We have not rested since we set off early this morning. I understand if you cannot continue on. The question facing us is whether to go now or wait until morning. As it affects us all, I would hear your opinions."

"I am weary and want nothing more than to sink down on my bedroll and sleep, but..."

"Our King needs us."

"I'm not sure my horse can continue on this night."

"I think we have no choice but to leave now."

"It is too risky to wait."

"Wait a moment, we are forgetting, we only have six horses for eleven men, five of whom cannot ride."

They were silent for a moment, contemplating this problem. Then Faramir made a decision. "Two of us will go now, taking King Elessar and Price Legolas with all speed back home. The rest of you will stay and rest. See if you can find the rest of their belongings. Their horses are also missing. Perhaps you can locate them. I will send more horses tomorrow." As their was no objections to this plan, Faramir walked to his horse and mounted. He led the nearest horse with him back to the group and waited while one of the guards mounted beside him. The still form of his liege was lifted up to him. He settled the weight and pulled Aragorn close, wrapping his cloak around them both. A glance to the side showed Legolas and his guardian ready. With one look at the remainder of his men, Faramir kicked his horse into action, thundering down the road.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

**AN: **Finally. Now they can live happily ever after. Well, that depends on how I feel tomorrow.


	17. Home

**AN:**Sorry this took so long, I was on holiday. There are not many opportunities to use a computer when in a tent in the middle of a field. I know it is short but I thought you might like an update, no matter what the size.

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, Minas Tirith_

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It was just before dawn when Arwen was woken from a disturbed sleep by an incessant knocking at the door. She grabbed a light robe from a chair and swung it around her shoulders. Her feet found her slippers then hurried over to the door. One of the many young runners employed in the citadel to carry messages or small items stood impatiently outside. No sooner had the door been opened when he began to speak.

"My Lady, Lord Faramir has returned with King Elessar and Prince Legolas. They are in the healing rooms now."

Arwen's heart missed a beat upon hearing the news she had been awaiting for days. She took off down the corridor at a sprint. The healing rooms? That meant on of them was hurt. _Please don't let it be Aragorn._

The corridor which connected the healing rooms was a bustle of activity. Healers hurried about, fetching things they needed. Servants scurried about, trying to help. A large number of people had gathered, trying to find out what had happened. Arwen pushed her way into the middle of a tight knot of nobles. In the centre stood Faramir and Eowyn. They broke their close embrace and Eowyn took her friend's hand. Faramir gave a small bow then motioned to a small storeroom where they could talk in private.

Arwen had a million questions in her head. She felt that she could hardly wait to be alone with her friends before the questions spilt forth. When the door snapped shut, however, she found she couldnot speak. In silence, she accepted the chair offered to her and waited for Faramir's account.

"Arwen," Faramir said, dropping formalities. "Lieutenant Barindor Tonalion had a son who was killed in the war. As far as I could tell, the grief drove him to madness. He blamed Aragorn. He arranged for an ambush. Then he took out his anger on him. When we stormed his home under the mountains, the Lieutenant seemed to be under the impression Aragorn was his son. Legolas suffered, his injuries are extensive. We were lucky to return so quickly, in the care of the healers, I am hopeful he will recover."

"And Aragorn?"

"His injuries are nowhere near as bad. However he was terribly weak when we found him. He lot consciousness soon after and has not woken up yet."

The three stood up again and without a word spoken between them, all agreed now was the time to enter the healing rooms.

The room was light and airy. Three beds stood against the wall to the right and the wall to the left was set with glass, flooding the room with the sunlight. The two beds closest to the door were occupied. Healers were gathered around the closer bed, talking, passing bandages and knifes, working hard to preserve the life of their patient. The three companions walked over to the second bed which did not have the same busy crowd. A Healer was stitching a deep wound. Stark white bandages indicated many more. Under his hands, lay the king. His eyes were closed and his body still. His face was almost the same colour as the white pillow which supported his head. A thin blanket was pulled to just underneath his shoulders. His arms lay to his sides, atop the blanket with bandages their only covering.

Arwen gave a small gasp and moved to sit on the bed beside her husband. She took one of his hands in her own and placed a hand over his shoulder.

"My Lady," The healer acknowledged.

"How is he?" She anxiously asked.

"His wounds are many and none of them trivial but they are healing well and should continue to do so. I does however trouble me that he has not yet woken. I cannot treat what I do not know. He appears very weak and anaemic. He may have been starved or his wounds may have caused him to suffer further than they should. I do not yet know."

Arwen tuned her attention back to Aragorn and kept her eyes on his lidded ones as she asked "What now?"

I will continue to treat his wounds. When that is done, we will make sure his is comfortable and wait." Arwen did not reply and the healer felt her worry clearly as if it were his own. "It is all we can do, My Lady."

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

**AN: **I've updated and given the terrible twosome the care they need. Forgive me?


	18. Fairy Dust

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, Minas Tirith_

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Groggily, he opened his eyes then scrunched them shut against the harsh glare. Where was the light coming from? Cautiously, he opened his eyes a crack and peered around. Where was he? He did not recognise his surroundings at all. He gladly let his eyelids fall again. Thinking with a concentrated effort produced no was a great concern that he did not know where he was or his situation. He had been safe before, he was sure of it, but now? He heard soft talking to his left. There were people in the room with him. His anxiety grew with the knowlege. His breath quickened into short gasps. Aragorn was a clever man and thought to gain more information without drawing any attention. He focused hard on his breathing, trying to feign the regularity of sleep. Listening, he could not make out the words but the voices were hauntingly familiar. He relaxed, sure that these two would not harm him. Who were they? Could it be that these were Faramir and Legolas? Why were they here? His memory prompted with an image of Faramir's concerned face looking down at him in the dark room. What had happened? This room, with its white walls and the burning sunlight, could not be that place. Conflicting images whirled in his head. He tried to sequence them but nothing made any sense. His head throbbed terribly and the more he strained against the fog of his mind, the more his head burned.

A pitious low groan slipped between his lips as the fire in his head intensified. He heard more voices and the sound of feet hurrying towards him. Terrified, is eyes jerked open and the bright sunlight seered across his vision. He gasped in pain and his face contorted to protect his eyes. Beforwe he could assess the sitiation hands were on his shoulders. Paniced, he rolled feebly away. If it were possible, the pain in his head intensified. A louder groan, then the hands returned, exerting force this time, holding him. He whimpered and sobbed as inescapable voices talked, then shouted at him. His attempts to escape were futile. Fingers rolled his eyelids up. He cried out against the cruel torment.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

A dark cell. He recalled days when he used to put people in these cells. In here? Where was his son? They had taken him. Revenge. He must get his revenge. On who? The one who snatched his son had a higher authority. The king had stood by and let it happen. A dark cell. Memories. Faces. An enemy, family, which was which? He knew there was one to live for.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Faramir rushed over to the King's bed. Aragorn struggled as if his life were in danger. The three healers held him still and tried to calm him but to no avail. Faramir joined them in gripping a sweat slicked hand and calling to his friend.

"We must calm him, his pulse is too quick, this exertion is too much for him. After what has happened, he needs to rest."

"The four men worked harder to keep Aragorn from hurting himself but the more they restrained him, the more agitated he became.

Legolas called across to them, "Leave him. Give him some space"

Trusting the elf's knowledge of his friend, they all took a step back. Free from his tormentors at last, Aragorn sat up. The movement made his head spin. He felt the blood rush away then felt himself fall back onto the pillows.

When Aragorn opened his eyes again, he seemed more in control of himself. He tried to ask his many questions but found his throat too dry.

"My Lord, how do you feel?"

The question threw him off guard.

"My Lord," the healer said, seeing his confusion, "don't you recognise me or where you are?"

Aragorn made no reply

"You are in the healing rooms. Lord Faramir brought you here early this morning. It is now evening. You have been wounded but I have been caring for you. How do you feel?"

"Hurts," came out as a dry rasp.

"Here." He was handed a small pitcher of water which he drank with trembling hands. "Where does it hurt?"

Aragorn thought about the question. He ached all over. His body felt heavy and clumsy. His wounds sparked sharply as only stab wounds can. They floated him off on a sea of pain at the same time as pinning him down to reality. Contained within his head was a fire which fought to burn its way out. It throbbed and seared, this inferno of red pain. Movement only seemed to add fuel to the blaze. This he told to the healers. He gave up the wait for his eyes to adjust and allowed himself the mercy of cool darkness. He felt a hand on his brow, resting on his cheek, running down his neck. It seemed to be another person who was proclaimed to have a fever. A cloth, wet and heavy was draped over his head. Faramir took his hand and struck up a one-sided conversation on the subject of Eldarion's latest escapades. Somehow, Aragorn found he cold not quite connect with the world around him. He was aware of the damp cloths cooling and cleaning as he was gently washed. He was aware of Faramir's mirth filled voice as he recounted his anecdotes. He was aware of these things but only _knew_ about the strange uneasiness and anxiety he felt.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Faramir left the healing rooms an hour later. Legolas, despite his injuries, was in high spirits and determined to be out with the trees again as soon as he could convince to healers to let him out of bed. Aragorn, however, was not so well. The healers had obviously suspected something but they did not say until the matter was sure and pressing. The king had lain still for a long while until a sudden jerk broke the peace permeating the room. He was soon in the grip of a violent seizure. His muscles cramped, jerked and contorted with their full and considerable strength. When the exhausted king was released from the rigors, Faramir found himself drawn aside by the city's most prestigious healer.

"My Lord, we have a grave problem requiring an urgent solution," he had been told. "King Elessar is displaying the symptoms of one dependant upon a substance or drug but suffering from its withdrawal."

"Dependent?" Faramir had exclaimed, "But he was only away for six days."

"To cause so acute an effect, it must have been a strong and readily used substance. Unfortunately, I can think of nothing which would account for this."

"Can you treat him?"

"He needs to be returned to this substance and quickly. The shock of removing it from his body all at once is too much," the healer said.

From this conversation stemmed the steward's current quest. He briskly walked down to the main guard house on the city's sixth level. His Liege's life depended now upon him interrogating the prisoner as to the nature of the drug and finding a sufficiet supply of it. He was readily welcomed into the guard house and led down to the cell of Barindor Tonalion. Before him stood a wreck of a man, stripped of rank, honour and dignity. There was no time to waste on pity so Faramir launched strait to the matter of his visit.

"You drugged King Elessar." It was not quite a question but demanded an answer.

"Yes," the prisoner replied without looking up.

"With what?"

"I helped him, he was afraid but I soothed away his fears."

"What did you drug him with?"

"I bought it from the travelling markets. They call it fairy dust."

"Do you have any more of this?"

The reply startled and repulsed Faramir. The prisoner looked at him incredulously ten threw back his head and laughed. When he had calmed enough to speak, he said in a voice fulled with mirth,"I had it all in my caves. Where else would I keep it. And you," his laughter broke out again over his words. "And you- you..."

Faramir shot him a look of utter disgust before sweeping out of the cell, leaving the hysterical prisoner alone.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Heavy woolen curtains of many layers had been draw across the great widows of the main healing room. For the man lying in the central bed could not bear even the soft moonlight. Legolas had moved to another room on the same corridor to avoid disturbing his friend. The Ladies Arwen and Eowyn kept watch over the sleeping king. There was silence in the room. Also sharing in the lifeless atmosphere were two healers, pouring over books and scrolls on a table to one side. There was not much they could do with their limited grasp of the facts but they searched anyway.

The door creaked open and Faramir stepped in. With care, he closed the door behind him before joining his wife and queen. The healers put down their texts and came over to hear what he had to tell.

"How is he?" Faramir asked first.

"His convulsive fits have become quite violent. Overall, I fear his condition is worsening rapidly," One healer said as he check over his patient.

Arwen looked up and spoke in her sweet voice, "He is peaceful now, I am glad he finally found sleep."

Faramir then proceeded to give the news all were awaiting. "I have discovered that Aragorn was drugged with a substance know in the mountai villages as 'fairy dust'. Alas, I do not have any and none can be found," He cried, throwing his hands up. "I asked where Tonalion's supply was. It was hidden in the caves. My guards blocked them on my orders. They brought the roof in and compleately destroyed the place. That man watched, knowing the drug was in there but he didn't say a word. He found it funny. What are we to do?"

"I have heard of fairy dust," Eowyn said. "Men used to take it when they were worried or unable to sleep. It brought an unnatural calm and relaxation. There is quite a trade in the stuff in the travellig markets. They say it can take you to the lands of the fairies." She blushed at the looks of her companions. "I never tried it, that's just what I heard," she protested.

"There is nothing we can do now," Faramir sighed as he pulled up a chair and dropped into it. "This matter must rest for a few more hours but when the first light peeps over the horizon, we will search the whole of Arda for some fairy dust."

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

**AN: **Grrr! I wrote a huge chunk of this, forgot to save it and then my computer crashed. Please let me know that my work was not in vain by reviewing.


	19. Seeking the Fairies

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, Minas Tirith_

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

The word went round with the speed of the Rohirrim. If any man was to have but an ounce of fairy dust, by the end of that very day, he would be a rich man indeed. The city was in an exited state. Worry for their king and the search for the fairy dust set the citizens on edge. Many had approached Faramir's audience chamber to offer services, good wishes or prayers but none carried the desired drug. Substances which induced trances or hallucinations were disapproved of in the city. It was considered a lazy habit to take such drugs and spend the time in an idle stupor. The atmosphere in the palace was an entirely different one to that of the lower levels. The servants were subdued and quiet. Officials walked around with a stately but depressed air.

It was into this heavy atmosphere that an elderly looking farmer (who was in fact only in his 40s) entered. He quietly joined the crowd in the audience chamber. Nervously twisting a scrap of grubby paper in his hands, he approached the dais on which Faramir sat. A plump woman was arguing fiercely with the steward. Faramir was having a hard time convincing her that His Majesty had not become a slovenly drunkard.

"Excuse me?" The farmer interrupted.

The woman paused in her tirade and shot him a glance, evidently disapproving of his intrusion, or his appearance, or quite probably both.

"Yes?" Faramir asked, glad for a break, perhaps even a citizen who whould recognise his authority.

"My Lord," the man acknowledged as he sketched an arthritic bow. Then, he shuffled forth and held out the grey twist of paper.

Faramir gingerly took it. "What is this?"

"It is what you seek. At least a little of it."

Faramir jumped to his feet and came down to talk face to face with the man. "This is fairy dust?" he asked, inspecting the small amount of silvery powder encapsulated by the paper.

"Aye, it is. I just arrived in the city, My Lord. I heard of the desperate need for that magic fairy powder. It is a need greater than my own I'd say so I brought it up here to you."

Faramir thanked the man humbly before rushing out of the room, cradling the twist of grubby paper like any precious jewel.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Aragorn was propped up on a mound of soft pillows. He had sunk deep into them and his eyes lay closed. He was, however, conscious and glad for the company of his queen as she sat beside him, talking and singing with her melodious voice. Thus he was as Faramir strode in, exclaiming, "I have it."

Arwen joined the men on the other side of the room, carefully measuring out the fairy dust. Nearly all of it was sprinkled into a pitcher of water. It dissolved with a brief stir and no trace of it could be observed in the water. Then, a little honey was added as a precaution against an undesirable taste.

Aragorn half raised his eyelids as the group approached him again.

"My Lord," a healer adressed him in a low and soft voice,"This should help you. You must drink it all."

Aragorn tried to lift has had to take the concoction but it shook then fell back onto the coverlet. He felt ashamed at his weakness as his head was lifted and the pitcher held to his lips. Averting his eyes from those around him, he quickly gulped down the mixture.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Legolas was sitting up in his bed, enjoying the golden light of the sun upon his face. He looked up with a start when the door creaked open. To his surprise, Aragorn was standing in the doorway.

"Legolas," he greated warmly.

"Aragorn, my friend," Legolas replied. He used his one uninjured hand to shuffle across the bed, making room for his friend to sit. "I heard you were very ill. How are you? Are you well enough to be walking about?"

"I've not dropped down dead yet," Aragorn laughed. He sat on the bed and studied the elf carefully. "How are _you_, my friend?"

"I am well enough if I don't try to move about too much. I'm bored of waiting for my wounds to heal already. This arm is useless," Legolas said, gesturing to the sling on his left arm. "I tried to walk over to the window earlier on. You would have laughed to see it. I guess I'll just be lying here a while longer. How do you, as a mortal, stand the long process of healing. It is at times like this I am glad to be of the firstborn."

"Yes, pity me. I'll be out of action while you gavotte about like a monkey in the trees."

"Excuse me!" Legolas exclaimed in mock indignation. "I do _not _gavotte like a monkey. I climb gracefully."

"The graceful maiden with her fair graceful silken hair flowing about behind her leaps gracefully between the bran-"

_Thud._

The room was filled with laughter, Legolas having pushing his friend onto the floor.

Aragorn's laughter gave way to a painful choking. Legolas leaned over the edge of the bed to cast concerned eyes on his friend. "I am sorry, I should not have done that."

"It is all right, we needed some amusement." Aragorn's smile fell from his face. His eyes unfocused and he fell back onto the floor. His body violently convulsed out of his control

"Aragorn!" Legolas cried in horror. He shout his friend's name until the occupants of the surrounding rooms were drawn in.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

"It was foolish of him to go walking about," the healer complained in a quiet but agitated voice.

"Hush, that is the king you are talking about," his assistant reminded him.

"I know, but my patient is now hovering at the doorstep of Mandos' Halls. If he had rested, we might have had a little more time."

"Time for what?"

"To gradually take him off the fairy dust."

"What fairy dust? We have no more."

The two healers approached the still figure of their king. They had failed him in their task and now he lay lifeless on the brink of death. What made it worse was knowing how to save him but being unable to.

The door was pushed open and a servant entered, pushing a nervous boy ahead of him. He bowed in greeting then turned to the boy. "Tell them what you told me just now." The boy glanced at him. "You wont get into trouble."

"I- I know how to make fairy dust."

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

**AN: **One more chapter to go. Hang in there and please review.


	20. Epilogue and Note

**ceri han daro**

_Fourth Age; Year seven_

_Gondor, somewhere in the White Mountains_

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

Aragorn came to spluttering and choking. Hands held him in a seated position and his head was firmly supported. Arms tightened around his waist, supporting his aching abdomen. The hands on his back moved, rubbing and thumping, helping him to expel the suffocating contents of his throat. A cloth appeared from nowhere and his mouth was wiped. When he could finally breathe, he glanced around and found himself surrounded by healers. The chief healer of the royal household had a pitcher of what looked like water in his hand. It had obviously been that which instigated his difficulty.

"My Lord, I know it is hard, but you must drink this."

Aragorn felt too weak to resist as his chin was tipped back and the liquid poured down his abraised throat. He was surprised at his own weakness, unable to support any of his weight. The only task he seemed able to do was to swallow the tasteless mixture. Even this was a trial. Through a dizzy haze, he was aware of a gentle touch on his throat, encouraging him weak muscles to convay the liquid down.

Eventually, the pitcher was removed from his lips and his mouth wiped again. He closed his eyes, exhausted. His weight shifted and he was lowered down to lie on soft sheets and pillows. A thick blanket was drawn up over his shoulders and he was tucked tightly into it.

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

**Three weeks later**

"Legolas! Look at you. The sun rose three hours ago and you're still in bed," Aragorn exclaimed after letting himself into his friend's room. A pillow flew at him from the mound in the centre of the bed which he deftly caught. "Tut tut, you must be out of practise," he teased. "I should have you put in the stocks for assaulting your King."

"Honestly, Aragorn. I have been awake and alert longer than you. If you would please...?" Legolas' muffled voice said.

"Of course, my pointy eared friend."

Legolas pushed himself into a seated position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Aragorn handed him a sturdy stick with a rounded top and leather base. Legolas braced himself with the stick and pushed up on Aragorn's shoulder. Together, the two friends tottered over to the balcony. Aragorn slowly lowered Legolas to a comfortable armchair but let him drop the last few inches, earning himself a good-natured slap on his arm.

"It's not _fair_," The elf moaned. "I went to rescue you and you're recovered already while I'm still confined to this room." Legolas was not really bitter but he did find it annoying to be restricted so by his injuries.

"Don't worry, in a few more weeks, you'll be fine."

"Don't worry? In a few more weeks, I'll be_ mad_."

"It's not that bad is it?" The look Legolas gave him caused him to burst into laughing fit morphed into a coughing fit. Legolas leaned forword in concern, wishing he could do more to help his friend. Aragorn leaned back and waved his hand to show he was fine while he tried to catch his breath.

Legolas' voice was dark when he said "I do not often find it in my heart to hate people but I find I can never forgive that man what he did to you."

"I know. When I took the thrown of my ancestors, I vowed to exercise mercy in all my judgements. I never wanted to execute anyone, even for treason. I still hold this view in my heart but I have to question it. I do not hate the man, circumstances made him who he was but I do not regret his fate. I am glad I was spared that decision."

"Faramir made the right choice," Legolas said. "I also would have found that an impossible decision but execution is the punishment for high treason. His death was quick. This kingdom is still renowned for your mercy."

They sat in contemplative silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

The door flew back with a bang and they turned togther to watch the prince run towards them.

"Eldarion!" his father exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to show Alderion to you," the boy explained. He excitedly approached the elven prince. "Legolas, look at Alderion. I found him in the garden." He opened his cupped hands and tipped a large colourful snail onto Legolas' knee. Legolas tried to look enthusiastic as his leggings were slowly given a slime bath.

"Eldarion..." Aragorn began.

"Prince Eldarion!" Shouted a women's voice. Eldarion's nurse barrelled in through the open door. She skidded to a halt when she saw King Ellassar and Prince Legolas. "My Lords," she acknowledged with a hasty curtsy before darting foreword to take the mud stained hand of her charge. "Prince Eldarion, what have you been doing?" she scolded. "Look at you. You are coming with me back to the nursery where you are having a bath."

"But I don't want a bath," the prince protested.

Aragorn met Legolas's eyes and Legolas mouthed 'stubborn like his father.' Aragorn had to look away to avoid undignified chuckling. Eldarion was pulled from the room, waving the whole time. When the door clicked shut, the two friends dropped their iron control and laughed with the contentment of those who have been through dark times but have found the light again.

Come on," Aragorn said, standing and stretching out his back, "I've got to get back to my duties and we need to get you into a clean pair of leggings."

_~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~_

**Author Note**

Thankyou all for sticking with me through this story. This is my first successful story in that it is the first full length novella I have written which I actually managed to finish. It took longer than I expected but it was a great experience and one I intend to repeat on other stories in the future.

This is not quite the end for Ceri Han Daro. Most chapters are unbeta'd; There are many small spelling errors; and lots of ideas I never followed through. As I result, I will now instigate to review the story. The revision will improve the story and I hope make it worth rereading.

At this point, it is traditional to beg for review and I am certainly not above that. Please, leave me a review now I have finished this project. As this is my first real story and first in this fandom, I need all the feedback I can get.

Once again, thankyou for reading to this through to the end with me. Blueberry muffins to:

**Ohtar Vicky**

**invisigoth3**

**iccle fairy**

**Ninfea di Luna**

**AragornIsTheBest  
Devon-Cullen  
ObiBettina7  
Val**

**angibugg  
Eye of Newt  
GreyElvenEyes  
Larki13  
luanee  
Nebraskafan  
Night Of The Land  
Nosterineth  
StarLight9  
StrangerToTheWorld  
Syl**

Thanks, Pipilo.


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